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LHeerogicall Sempra y 
PRINCETON, N. J. 

BT 1101 .H66 1836 

Hooker, Herman, 1802-1865. 

si Popular infidelity 


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THE 


LIBRARY 


OF 


Ghristtan Rnowledge. 


EDITED BY 


THE REV. HERMAN HOOKER, M.A,, 


AUTHOR OF ‘‘ THE PORTION OF THE SOUL,” &c. 


VOL. V. 


LABORE RELUCENS. 


PHILADELPHIA : 


WILLIAM MARSHALL & Co. 
NEW YORK: LEAVITT, LORD & Co,—PROVIDENCE: JOHN E. BROWN. 


“ MDCCOXXXVI. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
a se pee Ros. Sb i 


BY Tue °° 


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ing REV. Fenn HOOKER, M.A. 


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eof divine truth which you never see—see what es will it ‘ti 
llect; much less, if the intellect be swayed by ser ies &B Pl 

heart is overcome, we have this evidence in the substance, th the relish 
picuous excellency in it, Ber roves it to the mind, and confirms it by a happy ; 
er and sweetness, * 5** a most specious decepti at which enables — Ye 
uu will, with ae ence of and the colour of be ng all you should, 

7 a * 


’ LORD & Ge ee raion: : JO ‘E. BROWN: Yi 


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PARAL APPPR PLL PPP PATA 


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ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by 
W. MarsHaut & Co. 


in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 


DRDAAAANAAEERAEA004 900000004 


PAE PLLA LEDS A CAPPS PAARPX® PALS PELE AP LPPPPLIO 


——_—— 


STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON, 
PHILADELPHIA, 


9 oi ot their ndiferenee to it, 


Fae ote 


et = ea as a . first step to a Morrect ieniing *: 
| M %. Ol their spi - This pnConer ae i between 
‘ * the accredited faith and. the conduct of men is so con 


’ vd 


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mon, and in degrees so various, that it is to be feared we 


are ceasing to regard itas an exception to a general law— 
as ‘something monstrous in practice—and are satisfying 


ae 
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-ourselve vith the virtue of Sega es it, or per- 
Y ¢ *. 
haps of leclaiming against it, Ww ile we take not mu. 
ha = . 
trouble to inquire into the reason and enormity of it. +” 


This inquiry the author has endeavoured to conduct— 
with good design he knows—with what good effect he a 
leaves for the reader to judge. As the discussion ad. 


vances, much is said, referring to the varieties of human 
je 5 


vi PREFACE. ” 


character, and to the secret operations and tendencies of 
unbelief, suitable to be reflected on by devout believers, 
and yet not ultimately, it is thought, impertinent to the 


os steady design of the work. 


Having shown, or presumed, that numbers may justly 
be denominated infidels, who do not so consider them- 


selves, and are not generally so considered by others, 
notice is taken of the confirmation which this view 


ee 


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od 


receives from the Scriptures, and of the adaptation of 
the doctrines of Christianity to the known nature and 
wants of man, and to the ends which it proposes to 
effect, and in the accomplishment of which man is made, 
what he is not and cannot be in any other way, both 
blessed and deserving to be so. 

The inference, then, which is more or less disclosed 
in every branch of the subject, is, that if our views of 
Christianity. do not. renovate our natures and sway our 
conduct, it is because they are delusory, the mere allow- 
Bites which an evil heart has made in its own vindica- 
tion, and in which it loses sight of itself and of God 

together, while looking as at an image of its own cre- 
ation, and which it kneels to and worships as having 
qualities that are in accordance with itself—which yet 
itself has imparted, or rather are itself again. re 


"Philadelphia, June 28, 1836. 


St sagen hae 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 


Vanity of man separate from his immortality—The chances of _ 


being finally lost—Plans and hopes of safety—Strange con- e 


trariety of faith and practice—Deep delusion—The art and 
success of spiritual foes—Infidelity not readily owned—Per- 
sons chargeable with it in practice—The Reader—His can- 
dour—His interest in the subject—Its difficulty no discou- 
YAGEMENt..essssccececseccereesesscesseraaenscees creas 
% ae 

CHAPTER II. ne 


3 


Moral character and speculative belief—Man consists of a dou- 


ble nature, half angel and half beast—Natural process down- 
ward—Trendency to be less and less spiritual in the a: 
tions and the understanding—Views of moral 


excellence, 


how acquired—Standard of comparison—Moral attributes of | 


the Deity—Danger of misconceiving them—Proneness to. 
error from the corruption of human nature—From the limited 


faculties of the mind—A case supposed—Diffidence of our 


capacity to judge correctly of moral qualities, the truest wis- _ 


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CHAPTER III. tee 


Various modes in which human character is disclosed—Preva- 


lence of hypocrisy—Its tendency to self-deception and infi- 


Devotees of fashion—Dignity of their vocation—Their irreli- 
gion—Their free joni from the affectation of goodness—Their 
errors—The best virtues of unconverted men seem not to 


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-delity—Morality of secular men a proof of their infidelity — ; 


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acknowledge a God—They infer the greatest misconception of — 
personal character—They centre in creatures, and afford the 
clearest evidence of a faithless heart—Peculiar depravity of 
such persons— Their sinning without a motive — Things 
which try men’s souls—Their complaints and their preten- 
sions illustrate their infidelity—Their self-importance and 
misery—Contrast of their reasoning and conduct with the 
suggestions of faith—Happiness of a mind resting on God... 


CHAPTER IV. 


Moral worth of incidental actions and opinions—Their pecu- 
liarity with reference to the objects of faith—Proper estimate 
of worldly interests—Singularity of religious indecision—Its 
contrariety to reason and analogy—Casual devotion—Its ab- 
surdity—Its action considered as the cause and fruit of infi- 
delity—All true faith considered as necessarily influential in 
proportion to the value of its object—Prevalent inattention to 
the Scriptures—Connexion between faith and knowledge— 
Infidelity of those who give but a casual attention to religion 
—Their hope—Their conduct contrasted with their faith and 
caution in business affairs—Their singular inconsistency— 
The faith and practice of a nominal believer compared with 
those of a professed infidel— What there is to choose between 
them—Religious pretenders—Their liability to self-delusion 
from the facility with which they gain credit.....seseseeees 
“i 


Pit! CHAPTER V. 


at 
noes in Ceenache our own qualities a cause of our “miscon- 
ceiving the divine perfections—Obstacles to correct views of 
ourselves—Readiness with which men confess the evil of 
their hearts —Process by which men are reconciled to evil 
tn es which perpetuate this delusion—Their unob- 
s operation — Tendency of worldly companions and 
amusements to foster infidelity—This danger inferred from 
our mental fae Picts of those who disre- 
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couraged—Great changes in moral character occurring with- 
out our notice—Blindness to the infidelity consequent upon 
them—Difficulty of breaking from worldly society—Things 
implied in our attachment to it—The prospect presented to 
the mind—Worldliness—Practical atheism—Peculiar dan- 
gers of youth—Whether religion is an easy practice— W hat 
is essential to make it so—Its nature—lIts requisitions agree- 


able to the truest philosophy...ssssceecesesccseeeesoceess 113 


CHAPTER VI. 


Want of self-knowledge a cause of error in religion—Self-love 


—Examples of its deceptive operation—Its opposition to cor- 
rect views of truth—Perils of the state to which it carries the 
mind—Difficulty of understanding this state, and of escaping 
from it—Errors that grow out of it—Its incompatibility with 
moral improvement — Two weighty inferences — Sense of 
guilt always slight in habitual sins—Great sins rendered sin- 
less in our eyes by a continuance in them—Secret sins—The 
peculiar danger of them—Their effect on the moral percep- 
tions —The false security and infidelity which insensibly~ 
spring from them—The folly of deciding on our character 
from the opinion of others—Deceptive appearances—Prayer 
of a Roman worshipper—Great inconsistencies in practice— 
Instruction drawn from the conduct of the thief and the rob- 
ber—The moral decency of their example compared wae 
that of others—Effect of sinning on the judgment—Enrors in 


one respect leading to error in all others—Reflections,...... 139 


CHAPTER VII. 


.# 
Influence of character on belief—Direct application of the rea- 


soning in the preceding chapter—Analogies between what 3 
men think of themselves and what they think of. others— 
These considered as the cause and proof of infidelity—Indif 
ference of men to religion _not accidental, but the result of | 
settled opinions—Mental processes by which these opinior s 
are acquired—The deductions of sense taken for those of rea 
son—Reason held in the service of sense—Singular lowe,of 
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the world—Our own depravity approved when it “goes to 
excess in one direction, yet hated unde ther and lower ma- 
-_—— nnifestations—Idolatry—Analogy of its forms to human cha- 
* 


racter—Condition of the heart—Its changes great, yet imper- 


ceptible—Nature, not counsel, taken for a guide in spiritual 


perplexity—Its inventions—Its ‘resentment of the truth—Its 
proneness to clothe God in its own likeness—Spiritual idol- 
atry—Analogies bearing on the general subject—True basis 
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CHAPTER VIII. — 


Singularities in human conduct—Importance of knowing our- 


selves—Proneness to possess God with our own likeness— _ 


Causes of delusion in our judgment of him—Application of 
the subject to the reader—Reasons for distrusting his own 
opinions shown by various analogies—Continued argument 
with him—Separate responsibility of the head and heart— 
Peculiar evidence of divine truth—Difiiculties i in the way of 
believing—When they are insuperable— How overcome— 
Misconceptions of the gospel—Necessity of divine grace— 
Questions and troubles about human ability considered—Of- 
fice and sacrifice of Shrist, , how estimated—Characteristics 


e of the times—Needful despair—Proof of infidelity. ceseoees 207 
se 
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CHAPTER IX. 


Man treated as a rational being in all the divine dispensations— 

No mysteries of feeling i m regard to the doctrines of grace— 

Reason a competent judge of things necessary to salvation— 
Hinderances to its right éxercise—Our difficulty with religion 

es) Our fault—C ontrariety of the sentiments and practice of 
e Christ to human nature a ground of unbelief—Our i incapa- 
city to comprehend and believe the gospel—How acquired— 

How to be removed — Divine grace attainable when truly 


desired—Acts of holy obedience free and rational—Dispensa- : 


tions of grace encouraging in every scriptural view of them— 


a Power of truth—Misconceptions of it the same thing as infi- 
delity —Testimony of th Seri 


iptures—Striking guilt of sin-— 


- ners in Beals (God en 236 


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tg" the preceding discussion—Do ines of religi 
relation to our spiritual necessitie s—Mode of i 
ee _ Due esteem of divine grace—Operation of faith—Its effects. 
- rational—Ageney of the Spirit—His fruits contrasted with 
a ma rks of the flesh—Just deductions of reason—Contra- 
| ie: Christianity to our corrupt nature a proof of its divine 
oe cs competent to judge of this—The assistance 
it gives to. — Obligation it imposes on us to believe 
_ strongly ustness of our thoughts of God depending on the 
on . purity of our hearts—Conceptions of holy men contrasted 
with those of the wicked—Necessity of a light that tries and 


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‘POPULAR INFIDELITY, — 


PME CHAPTER I. 
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Vanity of man separate from his immortality—The chances of being 
finally lost—Plans and hopes of safety—Strange contrariety of 
faith and practice—Deep delusion—The art and success of Spi- 
ritual foes—Infidelity not readily owned—Persons chargeable 
with it in practice—The Reader—His candour—His interest in 
the subject—Its difficulty no discouragement. a 


: a 


Tue transient nature of his existence, as well as 


_ the little he can know and do at best, stamps an in- 


expressible meanness on man, if we contemplate him 
aside from the hope of immortality. But r ‘ding 
him as destined to live beyond the present scene, to 
live in bliss or wo, in glory or dishonour, according 
to the character of his agency here, every thing about 
him seems important. Indeed, the danger is, that 
our respect for him as a being of this high destiny, 
may hinder our being duly shocked with his de- 


generacy, whet he voluntarily forsakes the end of 
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14 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

his existence, and assumes a character, which, had it 
been his by creation, would only awaken surprise 
and distrust of the wisdom of his Creator. We 
should, in that case, see nothing in it for admiration, 
but every thing for wonder and dissatisfaction. But, 
mean as it would then appear, we now seem to be 
little offended that the multitude live as without 
knowledge or concern for their immortality. The 
hope they have of living for ever, and of answering 
ends suitable to so noble a design, serves, it may 
be, to raise them in their own estimation, but has no 
eontrol over their pursuits; and looking to their im- 
providence and their passion for sensible things, we 
see little prospect of their recovery to spiritual life. 
This, however, is not the worst of their condition. 
They have lost all right perceptions of their own 
character and of the objects which they must under- 
stand and love as the appointed means of renewal, 


and yet follow their convictions, such. as they are, 


without doubting that they are right; so that the 
chief danger that they will fall short of their calling, 
seems to arise from their disposition ‘to order their 
own steps,’ and to confide in their own views, with- 
out making due allowance for their nature and its 
proneness to misconception. 

Almost every one has a plan or hope of being 
saved, which supposes his character to be very 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 15 


different from what it really is. We never find 


any one living in the quiet expectation of being 
for ever depraved and miserable, but the great 
majority are living quietly ina practice that tends 
directly and strongly to this result. They continue 
in a practice which they pretend not to justify 
as innocent, and can hardly be said to consider 
as sinful, yet a practice which has _ confessedly 
deceived thousands, and in which thousands have 
confessedly perished. Still, they apprehend no evil, 
and cherish a secret expectation that all is to turn 
out well with them in the end. They have no idea 
of things as they are; they judge not of themselves 
as of others; they are in a deep sleep, and the most 
that can often be done, is to keep them wakeful 
enough for worldly dreams; and did they but think 
them dreams, they would soon perceive themselves 
poor and destitute, without any reasonable concern 
or action for relief. .But they do not so think; the 
god of this world surrounds them with a false efful- 
gence, which confuses their vision, and gives a decep- 
tive appearance to every object, and the true light 
which elears the reason and the affections ‘shines 
not unto them.’ Like some creatures we know, 
they seem to see best through a medium which is 
dark to nobler beings, and that object which should 
give light and joy is without glory to them, lulling 


16 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


them to slumber, and.justly making them a spectacle 
and wonder to all others. 

But the rest they have, is but asleeping storm; the 
security they feel, is but blindness to danger; the 
freedom they claim, is but a slavery grown easy and 
natural to them; the victory they are ready to arro- 
gate to themselves, is but the triumph of their foes, 
in which they are permitted to participate, only to 
complete it. Their prison and chains are not fully 
prepared, and they are encouraged to assume the 
honours and the airs of victors, only to finish the 
deception, and to make them the more loyal to their 
masters. Thus their spiritual enemies improve 
every advantage, while they make no resistance, and 
have no warfare as they view it. They have served 
Satan so well that his service is freedom, and no 
stoop for them, so long as they are not required to 
call him master; and, as it is his service, not his title, 
which he wishes them to own, they have no disa- 
greement. Power of darkness and delusion, he first 
darkens the mind to delude it, and then perpetuates 
the spell by setting it off for a fancy-picce of light, 
flattering the subject of it with marks of reason and 
excellence, which he indulges him to call his own. 

Nothing short of the prevalence of some delusion, 
deeper and more influential than men are generally 
aware of, is sufficient to account for this indifference 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 17 


to spiritual concerns. Writers may ascribe it to 
infidelity, but the bare evidence of the Christian 
system does not affect it: that system is professedly 
believed by the generality of those who manifest 
this indifference. They disclaim infidelity as a 
crime, as a baseless fabric, and are shocked at the 
bare name of’ it as applied to them. Indeed, if you 
could persuade them that they are infidels, they 
would not feel safe for a moment, and their first 
inquiry would not be for truth and evidence, but for 
a way of escape from guilt. "But they have always 
had a respect for the Bible as an inspired book; the 
existence of a Supreme Being, with such attributes 
and purposes as it ascribes to him, they have never 
doubted: and they are not now to be convicted of 
infidelity. That they have not a saving belief of 
these truths they admit; but then they have such a 
belief as they deem respectful to them, and likely to 
lead on to it. They might, perhaps, be convinced 
that they have not such a belief as deters them from 
sins and crimes which set God and his word at 
defiance; still they insist that itis a belief. It ap- 


pears to have little or no influence on their practice, 


still they regard it as a very important affair, and 
would not part with it on any account. They ac- 
knowledge their accountability and sinfulness, and, 


though sinning daily, claim that they are less daring, 
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18 - POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


and more innocent and respectful, than those who 
deny both. They have the happy way of resolving 


_ the matter so that they keep the thing, and shun the 


name of it. It is satisfactory to them, not that it 
has any reason in it; not that it proves any superior 
goodness in them; not indeed that it restrains them 
from any iniquity; but that it tallies with their 
household notions and conceptions of the beauty of 


faith, and the deformity of its opposite. 


There are two sorts of virtuous, not pious, people, 
which deserve some designation;—those, who, from 
a natural delicacy of their physical and mental struc- 
ture, run virtuously without a principle of action, or 
a rule of judgment, exhibiting the most attractive 
graces of thought and feeling, responding to every 
call of sympathy and regard, and bearing the richest 
fruits, which yet are as ‘apples of gold in pictures 
of silver,’ merely representations of the beautiful 
reality:—and those, who, without any uncommon 
advantage of nature, or exemption from temptation, 
have preserved a certain health and harmony of ex- 
ercise in their moral powers, and kept themselves 
within the attraction of virtue, its colours not greatly 
changing in their view, and they, though captives to 
the powers of the present world, yet retaining some 
freedom of the spirit, and dwelling in a kind of mid- 
heaven, whence they look down with a conscious- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. ‘% 19 


ness of superiority to the rest of their species as — 


needful to sustain them in their elevation, as it is 
indicative of their imperfection. Thus it is possible 
so to yield the heart to the claims of justice and 
humanity, and so to occupy the mind with ennobling 
objects and investigations, as to preserve, in a com- 
mendable degree, the freshness of the moral feelings. 
But this is all a night-growth, liable to perish in the 
morning; a painted edifice, outwardly new and beau- 
tiful, while its timber is struck with decay, and will 
bend and break with the storm. A discarding of 
God and his counsel, self-reliance, self-aggrandize- 
ment, atheism, is the life of the structure: it 1s the 
heart which conveys vigour to all its living extremes. 
It was never reared, and it can never subsist, with- 
out the service of pride, vanity, a love of promotion, 
and the praise of men; and these do not more cor- 
rupt than enfeeble every thing they fashion and 
control. They have no part in the ‘workmanship’ 
of God:! they do not so much as seek his aid, or 
acknowledge him in any of their doings. 

These remarks may serve to characterize great 
numbers who would start at the charge of infidelity; 
who value themselves for virtues, which, on a close 
inspection, appear to infer a want of faith; who, to 
say the least, live in the habitual neglect of religion, 


1 Eph, ii. 10, good men are called his ‘ workmanship.’ 


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20 i POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


without knowing or considering the ground of their 
indifference to it. These points will, in course, He 
the subject of investigation. . 

We can presume on no ability to do fustioge & our 
conceptions of the subject upon which we are enter- 
ing; much less, that we entertain conceptions wor- . 
thy of its importance. But if we be able in any 
measure to clear the way of the reader, and_ start 
such trains of thought as, when pursued out and 
applied with the faithfulness of an honest inquirer, 
shall reconcile him to a just view of his condition, 
we shall have no fear that he will consider his time 
ill spent, though the chief advantage he gains should 
in justice be accredited to himself. _More than this; 
if he shall allow to us the credit of an interest in his 
welfare, and deem ¢hat the amiable, and a sense of 
duty the graver, reason of our inquiries, we will 
not be so injurious to the courtesy of such judgment, 
as to suspect. that slight disappointments may deter 
him from pursuing them, while there is a possibility 
of attaining the good they propose. 

If he has duly considered what others are, though 
che has not so duly considered what he is, he will | 
not forget that he is of the same nature with them; 
nor will it appear a thing incredible that he should 
be convicted of faults and errors in his estimate of | 


himself, which, if they be more refined and less 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. ©. 21 


palpable, are not less destructive than those he sees 
in others. Indeed, should he prove to be gravely 
criminal, he will not think any previous suspicion of 


it an impertinence, or consider himself as wronged by 


- conviction, but only favoured with a discovery which 


“9 Oo and interest oblige him to welcome as the 


Peaks of a better mind, a coming to himself 


which not more necessarily precedes all right rea- 
soning than all spiritual excellence;—from which last 
he may have gone so far, that the loss itself is ‘not 
mourned, while the miseries of it are vainly felt and 
deplored. It would. be an unjustifiable aspersion, 
if he be known to be even well affected towards 
himself, to suppose he would quarrel with a truth, 


or shut his eyes to the evidence of it, when it could. 


be improved to his own exaltation, and to the fur- 
therance of his Creator’s will. We would be too 
jealous of the honour of our nature, claiming nothing 
for its goodness, to presume him thus destitute of all 
decency of regard for himself, and for the divine 
authority and wisdom. But if we grant him to be 
ofa considering humour, not ready to ) break with 
his Maker for eternity, not doubting his justice 

goodness, his absolute perfection, and still, not _ seeing 
them as realities, not affected by what he helieves, 
or rather, is apprehensive of,—it is not too much to 
expect, it is the least that can with civility be looked 


* 


23 vee." -POPULAR INFIDELITY 
"ge 


for, that he will see he cannot with any show of 
reason vindicate his continuance in a state wherein 
he blushes to own himself either the friend or the © 
foe of God, but wishes to be ranked as standing on 
anomalous and neutral ground; for this would be but a 
nonsuit of his claims to any other than a brute import- 
ance, since it is only when we are without reason 
that we can be without character. We may think 
we feel indifferent to an object, but if that object be 
one of incomparable perfection and interest, it must 
have claims upon our highest regard, and, when 
these claims are enforced to the exclusion of all 
inferior objects which we have chosen in its place, 
it will be found, that not to have loved this the 
noblest and best of all, is not a mere worthless indif- 
ference, but the cherishing of the elements of an_ 
unappeasable enmity to it. It is not more clearly 
apart of the great design of the universe that all 
bodies should tend to a common centre, than it is 
the chief design of rational creatures that they should 
tend with strongest affection to the greatest and 
most worthy object of such regard; nor is this law 
of the material system more needful and proper to 
its destined action, than that of spirits to their safe 
and rational action, while both alike are allowed to 
attract smaller objects, and to feel their attraction, 


yet only as parts of a whole, and in pursuance of this 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. et: ad 


their chiefest end. Why, therefore, onli not in 
love with this object, but goes counter to the ordi- 
nance of his nature, as well as to the claims and 
commands of Him whose claims could not be greater 
nor his commands more reasonable, and whose wills 
concerning us, expressing both his perfection: and 
| intending ours, may be summed up in one, ‘be ye 
perfect, even as your Father which is in heayen is 
perfect,’ enjoining on us his likeness in order to 
our participating in his felicity,—is a question that 
may reasonably claim his first attention; and which, 
now that he deems it an unjustifiable reflection upon 
his faith, to infer that he denies its importance, he 
should be presumed to approach with candour and 
self-distrust, and as caring less to obtain that which 
he cannot keep, than to possess himself of that goad 
~ which he knows he cannot lose. 


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24 _ POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER II. 


Moral character and speculative belief—Man consists of a double 
nature, half angel and half beast—Natural process downward— 
Tendency to be less and less spiritual in the affections and the 
understanding— Views of moral excellence, how acquired—Stand- 
ard of comparison—Moral attributes of the Deity—Danger of 
misconceiving them—Proneness to error from the corruption of 
human nature—From the limited faculties of the mind—A case 
supposed—Diffidence of our capacity to judge correctly of moral 
qualities, the truest wisdom. 


Ir was stated in the outset, that the great danger 
of our losing the chief and only durable good arose 
principally from a too great trust in our own judg- 


ment of spiritual things, without duly considering 


the influence of our corrupt nature: upon th ie per - 
ceptions and decisions of the mind. The operation 
of moral character upon speculative belief, though 
difficult to detect in particular cases, is yet in some 
measure understood and admitted by all. Both our 
sensibility to moral qualities and our perception of 
them may change and decay from neglect, or be 
choked and overrun by the growth of other and 
opposing principles. “Man, as he consists of a 
double nature, ‘flesh and spirit,’ so is he placed in 


a middle rank, betwixt an angel, which is a spirit, 


*. 
Be ans 


5 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 25 


& ot da beast, which is flesh; partaking of the qualities 
ans and performing the acts of both. He is angelical in 
his understanding, in his sensual affections bestial; 
and to which of these he most inclineth and con- 
formeth himself, that part wins more of the other, 
and gives a denomination to him: so as he, that was 
before half angel and half beast, if he be drowned in 
sensuality, hath lost the angel, and is become a beast; 
if he be wholly taken up with heavenly meditations, 
he hath quit the beast, and is improved angelical. 
It is hard to hold an equal temper; either he must 
degenerate into-a beast, or be advanced to an angel. 
Mere reason sufficiently apprehends the difference 
of the condition.’’ It will not, perhaps, be doubted, 
. it is so evident that it will not here be reasoned, that 


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ne gratification of his inferior nature, and to the 


process in every man is naturally downward, to 


love and pursuit of sensible things. As the conse- 
quence of this, it is equally evident that he does not 
see either the objects of sense or those of faith in 
their true character. He is in the case of the blind 
man, who, when asked if he saw aught, was sure he 
saw something, which yet was not a proper sight, 
for he saw ‘men as trees.’ He sees wealth, beauty, 
and honour; but it is not a proper sight, because he 
sees not all about them; he sees them not as a snare, 
shop Hall’s ‘Select Thoughts,’ No. Lxii. 


26 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


and does not sanely estimate their use to him. He 
sees the pleasures and enticements of sense; yet it is 
a question whether he sees them or no, because he 
sees them only as harmless and desirable: there is 


no reason in the sight. He sees all temporal goods; 


‘but we can hardly say whether he has a sight of 


them or no, because he sees them not as they are; 
‘hie sees them ‘as trees walking;’ he does not see the 
reason and beauty of them; he does not see them as 


beams and proofs of that perfection of them, which 


is reserved as ‘ glory to be revealed.’ But, becoming 
less and less spiritual in his affections and under- 
standing, the derangement in his sight of spiritual 
objects must be still greater. What was lovely and 
tasteful in moral excellence gradually disappears, 
and the very virtues comprised in it are for the 
most part mean and spiritless in his view: still, he 
reasons about them, and fully confides in his own 
decisions. He never doubts the soundness of his 
views, but there is an inconsistency between them 
and his feelings and conduct, which does not appear 
with regard to any other subject. If we can find 
the cause of this, all difficulty will vanish, and we 
shall be able to account for much, in the practice of 
men, which seems not to be compatible with any just 
appreciation of their own welfare, or of the ch 

ter of God; much, which is precisely as we should 


Re 


» 


_ POPULAR INFIDELITY. 27 


suppose it would be, if the light that is in them were 
indeed darkness. 

We would not be understood to deny that men 
may have views of moral excellence much purer 
than their practice; but it is certain that their moral 
character does more or less modify their views, and, 
in this way, involve them in most dangerous errors. 
This truth may be discerned in the very process by 

_which we arrive at a judgment of moral qualities. 
‘Our nearest approaches to the discovery of the ex- 
cellence of any object are made by comparing it 
with other objects, which are more or less excellent. 
In such a comparison, its advantage, or disadvantage, 
is the more visible, for the brightness or obscurity 
of those with which it is contrasted. Who, for 
instance, can discover a single colour on a fabric in 
which all colours are intermingled ? Who can have 
any proper ideas of degrees in benevolent actions, 
unless he has had, or witnessed in others, an exer- 
cise of malevolence? Who can declare one counte- 
nance more beautiful than another, if he has not in 
his mind some standard of comeliness, with which 
to compare it? It is thus evident that we must 
form our judgment of the distinctive excellence of 
objects, by the process of comparison. 
‘Let us, now, consider the probable effects of this 
process upon our notions of the moral attributes 


28 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


of God. These attributes must be designated by 
words, commonly used and understood. Is he holy, 
just, and good? If these terms are not understood 
in their application to the character of men, we shall 
understand them as little, when they are applied to 
God. Our notions of what is just or good in man 
will enter into all our reasonings, and form the basis 
of our thoughts concerning what is just or good in 
God. The same is true of all his moral attributes. 
They exist in him without defects; in man, with the 
blemishes of imperfection and guilt, and as dim sha- 
dows and uncertain semblances of the divine reality. 
But the dimness and the uncertainty are all his own: 


_ nothing can be laid to the charge of God; he made 


man in his own image; the fountains of his being 
were all pure and his sight was perfect, till he cor- 


rupted them and chose his darkness, and now that 


abundant light is come, and a new way opened for 
his recovery of this blessedness, he is held fully 
responsible for the errors of his judgment. But 
while he remains in his darkness, and has not the 
relish of his blessedness, what errors may he not 
commit, associated as he is with beings of universal 
and acknowledged imperfection—himself naturally 
as imperfect, as the greatest profligate he beholds. 
We will suppose him called to contemplate the 
moral perfections of God,and that they are designated, 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 29 


as they must be, by terms, the import of which he 
has learned from their usage among men, as applied 
to themselves. In proportion as the acts or qualities 
in himself and others which are called just and 
good, are imperfect, will not his notions of God, 
formed according to the use of language in refer- 
ence to such acts or qualities, be inadequate and 
unworthy? If he believes, and doubtless he does, 
that he is as good as any around him, and, although 
imperfect in all his moral exercises, regards himself 
with complacency, upon what principles shall we 
conclude, that he will be likely to entertain, in these 
respects, higher views of God than of himself ? 

We have thus far considered the effects of this 
process, as if man had no temptations or promptings | 
to reason otherwise than honestly and impartially 
on the subject, and on this admission, we see no 
ground for inferring that his conclusions will be safe 
and correct. But when we come to make proper. 
allowance for his self-love, his ignorance, his pas- 
sions, his false interests, there is no chance that he 
will be either impartial or correct in his judgment. 
If he forms and cherishes higher views of the divine 
excellence than of his own, he must be dissatisfied 
with himself, and that is disagreeable to nature; he 
must also live in perpetual fear of the divine displea- 


sure, and we commonly see no evidence of this in his 


ae 


30 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


conduct. The wickedest men are often the most 
self-complacent and fearless, and they must either 
not think at all on this subject, or think to no pur- 
pose. ‘Their passions have become such reasoners, 
that they justify their own indulgence. An argument 
in favour of a chosen error, which would once have put 
them on their guard as being fallacious, is now sound 
and convincing; and, as they falsely estimate their 
interests, it would be the happiest, the best con- 
trivance in the world, if they could have every thing 
in their pleasures and pursuits as it now is, without 
disappointments, and with the approbation of God. 
If they could have the matter thus, depraved and 
_unthankful as they are, they would have no self- 

reproaches, and no more shame than an angel that 
has never sinned. They would eat, drink, and in- 
dulge themselves, without a thought of God; they 
would think of any thing more than him, and indeed, 
he can gain their attention now, only by his terrors. 
He lays his hand upon them, and they tremble and 
look up, but no sooner is it removed and the shock 
past, than he is forgotten. This shows what they 
think of sin, and what bright reasoners they must 
be on moral excellence. Their passions, and inte- 
rests as they understand them, are in direct conflict 
with just views of the character of God, and to sup- 
pose that they will Sade impartially in this case, is 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. $1 


to give them credit for a disinterestedness which 
they never show in any other, and which, therefore, 
it is irrational to expect they will show in this. 
Their ignorance also renders them incompetent 
judges of the right or wrong of the divine proceed- 
ings. But they never think of this; they try them 
by their own standard of what is right and proper, 
with as much confidence as they would, if they 
knew every thing. This isa fruitful source of error, 
and of disaffection towards the character of God. 
According to this rule many events appear to them 
unjust or cruel, and such as they confidently believe 
they should not have permitted, had they possessed 
the control of them. In this way, they easily rise 
in the esteem of their own character; they impute — 
faults to God which they do not discover in them- 
selves, and turn his counsellors and reprovers, when- 
ever any thing crosses their wishes. What ought 
we to suppose such men think of God, especially 
when it is no secret what they think of themselves ? 
Is it any wonder that they are not alarmed at their * 
condition? Do they believe in the true God, or 
have they created, fancied one, who needs their 
advice, or, at least, is in favour with their desires? 
From the limited nature of his faculties, it is 
also clear that he, who does not submit his heart and 
understanding to the will of God, in full reliance 


5 v 
. 


32 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


upon the wisdom and equity of all his dispensations, 
will sometimes fall into the greatest errors, and the 
most confident questioning of the perfections of God. 
Suppose he witnesses a good action—one that is a 
certain duty in the instance before him, which, how- 
ever, in a little time, is found to have operated, in a 
way that could not be foreseen, injuriously to inte- 
rests more extensive and important than those which 
it immediately promoted, he cannot still doubt that 
the action was good, and it might have been good 
so far as the design of the agent is to be considered; 
he regarded it at the time so clearly a duty, that 
the neglect of it would have been thought proof of 
great imperfection, and, if it be supposed that an 
Omniscient Being, seeing all effects in their causes, 
would not have performed such an act, he would, 
certainly, have been thought imperfect and criminal. 
Independent, then, of any influence from association 
with depraved beings, if he has not that confidence 
in God which constrains him to believe that what 
he does, though it be apparently evil and injurious; is 
yet necessarily wise and good, he will often charge 
him with folly, and refuse submission to his will. 
When, therefore, we connect the ignorance of 
man with his estrangement from God, whose 
ways, according to the rule by which so ignorant a 
being determines what is good, will often appear to 


ual 
i 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 33 


be evil, and consider also, that he is associated with 
beings as depraved as himself, whose virtues consti- 
tute a medium of deceitful and tarnished lustre with 
which he is prone to clothe all invisible agents, can 
we believe that he will form correct opinions of the 
moral attributes of God? Is it reasonable to suppose 
that he will have just ideas; will so abstract himself 
from the imperfection that is in, and around, him, as 
to have vivid and pure conceptions of attributes of 
which he can have no notion, except as he compares 
them with such feelings within him as correspond to 
their nature, and with such shadows of them as are 
fleeting before him? If he could not learn the 
height and dimensions, the beauty and costliness of 
a temple, the like of which he had never seen, from 
surveying its ruins; if he could not conceive pro- 
perly of the splendour of the sun, from observing 
the moon which reflects his light so dimly, that, 
with all the aid of surrounding stars, it is night when 
he is absent, how shall he judge of that ‘excellent 
glory’ which comprises and excels all others, by the 
blemished and dying lights within him—by the dust 
that remains, but scarcely glitters, amidst the ashes 
of the ruin in which he is involved? What image 
will he frame from the materials before him? He 
hears not the voice of God, and no cloud, no symbol 
of his presence and glory, rests upon the ‘mountains 


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34 POPULAR INFIDELITY. : 
dl 


Will he think of a ‘golden calf,’ or will he bow to 
stocks and stones? He might do so, if education — 
and custom had not taught him better, ‘He must 
now have a more refined and specious idolatry; he 
must have in speculation and profession what he 
calls the true God; but in heart, in worship, he will 
have images without number, if they may be with- 
out name. Even as he estimates the character of 
God, he makes him an image, a being not such as he 
is, but such as he would have him. If unrestrained 
by prevailing modes of belief and expression, and 
unassisted by divine revelation, he would conceive 
of God as loving what he loves; as hating what he 
hates; and as possessed of such virtues, and only 
such, as he possesses. Having never seen a being 
of greater excellence than himself, he would form 
all who are invisible, in his own image, and think 
of them only as propitious to his own cherished 
_gratifications. This process of an evil heart, by 
which it likens all things to itself; this tendency to 
misconceive all truth at variance with his propen- 
‘sities, no education, no usage, no creed, can fully 
counteract. He takes his notions of the perfection 
of any moral quality, from that form of it in which it 
exists in his own mind; and this individual com- 
plexion, this identity, he transfers to it, when he 
contemplates it in the character of God. If he has 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 35 


wrong notions of any moral quality in his own mind 
or practice, yet, as he delights to cherish them, as 
they are a art of himself, and the best he has, they 
will prevail in his conceptions of God, in whose 
attributes he is so sharp to discover the colours of 
his own character. There is no glass in which he 
will not see himself; no moral perfection which he 
will not blemish with his likeness. Hence the 
difficulty « of convincing him of his guilt; hence his 
bold, his. complacent perseverance in the beaten 
ways of transgression; hence his dreams of pardon, 
his venturing on the mercy of God, when his peril 
is greatest, and his sins call loudest for retribution. 
He believes indeed; he has a God and a faith in him, 


but it is something worse than infidelity, with respect _ 


# 


to the word and attributes of that glorious Being 
whom it aspires to honour; it not only discredits 
what he is, and what he says, but it ascribes to him 
qualities which he has not, and which would bring 
him down to a level with his sinful creatures. It 
‘changes his truth into a lie, and his glory into an 


image made like unto corruptible man,’ but he sees _ 
not the criminality of it; he gives it the name of 


reverent service, though he is himself too irreverent, 
too thoughtless, to know what he has done, or, 
knowing, to feel the evil of it. 

It is surely not well for the best of men to confide 


- 


ut 


36 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


greatly in their understanding of spiritual excellence. 
Their imperfections will cast their shadows upon 
the brightest objects, and with all their desire to 
understand them aright, with their greatest readiness 
to suspect and accuse themselves, they cannot attain 
to this perfection; they will sometimes greatly dis- 
parage God by their unworthy, though their best, 
thoughts of him. Under pretence of celebrating 
one of his perfections, they may depress and wrong 
others, and make them repugnant the one to the 
-other. What then shall be thought of the difficul- 
ties which sinners have with the character and 
dispensations of God? What shall be thought of 
their competence as judges of either? What con- 
cern should they have, lest, while they endeavour to 
frame a consistent notion of God, they leave out of 
it every thing that is truly a perfection; and, lest, 
through their proneness to make their conception of 
him agree with themselves, they cause it to disagree 
with him? As an absolutely perfect Being, he 
comprehends in himself all real perfections, without 
contradiction or repugnance, and they can neither 
add to, or take from, him, without sullying his cha- 
racter, and abstracting from it less or more of that 
salutary influence which it is adapted to exert upon 
their hearts. It is suggested by all they know of 
themselves and others, and most consonant with 


POPULAR {NFIDELITY. 37 


their caution in other cases, that they should be 
wary, lest they speak too hastily concerning what 
he does; lest they magnify the greatness of his 
mercy so as to lose sight of their guilt and danger 
in it, or make it exclude-other attributes which are 
essential to his perfection, and which concern them not 
less than that which they are most forward to extol. 
When difficulty with him occurs, it is but decent and 
modest to defer our opinion; it is stupid and arrogant 
not to suspect and inquire whether the fault be not 
wholly in our own minds; in that narrowness which 
cannot commodiously entertain the boundless perfec- 
tions of the Deity, and comprehend their points of 
union, or their union which completes the glory of 
each; in that indolence which declines -patient in- 
vestigation and prevents us from doing what we can, 
or that self-conceit which disposes us to be satisfied 
with our convictions, right or wrong, and imposes on 
us an ability of doing what we cannot, of understand- 
ing that which is incomprehensible, of appreciating 
that which is so excellent that we ‘do not relish it, 
and could not even bear to behold it aright. 

It is difficult to express the rashness of a sinner, — 
who treads confidently, and figures largely, on this 
holy ground: more difficult to conceive that he can 


think it rational to confide in the worthiness and 
4 ‘ 


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28 - POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


adequacy of his thoughts of God, especially if they 
do not disaffect him with himself and his sins. 
There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the 
moon: that which excels, he has never seen; the other 
is but a reflection of it; it serves indeed to relieve 
the darkness.of the night, but is not sufficient for 
the purposes of the day; nothing minute ean be seen 
in it, and he, who should attempt to frame by ita 

eC and co G plicaial. structure, would be guilty of 


: presumption, and might be ruined, if not by 

) he needless expense, yet by the dangerous action, 

2 of it, When a man has once established a ¢haracter 
“for holiness and virtue, ifa known impostor brings 
even plausible: accusations against him, and endea- 

' vours, not without argument,-and with great appa- 
rent sincerity, to show that he is no better than his 
corrupt. and lawless neighbours, nobody would be-  ~ 
lieve him.’ To entertain for a moment such testi- 
mony, would not only be esteemed weak and un- ~ 
charitable, but a just. ground for charging us with 
a desire to believe it, or a likeness to the - Charger ite 


falsely ascribed to the innocent... And when i 
considered what an impostor the human heart i 34 
what sinners experience of its impositions: in them- 
selves and others, and what inducements they have, 
or rather imagine they have, to extenuate its 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. ~~ ci) 


wickedness, or shut their eyes to it, (which is so 
great that none but God can know it,)' how shall 
they justify it to their reason, or make their con- 
duct consistent with the rule of their judgment in 
other cases, when they arbitrarily confide in their 
perception and appreciation of the attributes of God; 
in the testimony of their deceitful hearts to his ee. 
less holiness and untainted righteous usness, whic ch 
. alike prove his displeasure with them, gts ro 
their displeasure with themselves! a 


The y ophet J eremiah, when contemplating the wickedn 
deceitful Rs of the heart, exclaims, ‘ Who can. know it? Vg 
as to say, no-man can. 


“= 


40 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


CHAPTER III. 


Various modes in which human character is disclosed—Prevalence 
of hypocrisy—Its: tendency to self-deception and infidelity— 
Morality of secular men a proof of their infidelity—Devotees of 
fashion—Dignity of their vocation —Their irreligion—Their free- 
dom from the affectation of goodness—Their errors—The best 
virtues of unconverted men seem not to acknowledge a God— 
They infer the greatest misconception of personal character—_ 
They centre in creatures, and afford the clearest evidence of a 
faithless heart—Peculiar depravity of such persons—Their sinning 
without. a motive—Things which try men’s souls—Their com- 
plaints and their pretensions illustrate their infidelity —Their self- 
importance and misery—Contrast of their reasoning and conduct 
with the suggestions of faith—Happiness of a mind resting on God. 


Men disclose their real character in many ways. 
Small incidents, rightly considered, are very decisive 
of it. They show by signs and complaints, to which 
they are apt to attach little er no import, what is in 
them, and what they think of God and of his word. 
And what individuals disclose from any cause or 
event, is adequate proof of what all others, having 
the same principles, would do in a similar ease. . It 
is true that we are apt to look with surprise upon 
the conduct of others, as though we were incapable 
of doing what they have done, yet this is a feeling 
which universal observation condemns as founded 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 41 


in ignorance and self-deception, and as one of the 
coverts in which an evil heart conceals itself from 
our view. Were we to take the trouble to examine 
into our own history, we should find we have, 
from time to time, committed acts and sins,’ to 
which, at different periods, we had thought ourselves 
in no degree exposed, and have come to a hardi- 


hood-in impenitence, and in neglect of our duties, 


.. * 
which, in a season of more tenderness of con- 


science, we contemplated with horror.” Every 
year of life is marked with changes of this character. 
They prove that we know little what we are, or 
‘what we shall be; that ‘he that trusteth in his own 
heart is a fool,’ no wiser for experience, and as con- 
fident of future goodness as if he had been only 
goodness itself from the beginning;—a ‘fool,’ be- 
cause all he can know is something concerning God 
or his’ creatures, and he knows nothing of either— 
nothing, certainly, that deserves the repute of under- 
standing. . iat 

This deception is seldom so complete but it is 
known to himself, more seldom so well-set off but 
it is seen by others to be a counterfeit of goodness, 
a confidence of virtue that does but express the loss 
of sensibility to it. Hypocrisy is often spun of a 
very fine thread, so fine that even the spinner can 


hardly tell it from the material it is designed to 


4* 


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a “42 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


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repr esent;. but, when he affects to put it off as better 


“= ‘than that, and to be surprised that ¢hat so often fails 


: criminal degrees of hypocrisy. They conceal pow- 


_and disappoints our hopes, he may be suspected of 
too much. interest in the matter to be honest. His 


confidence is the fruit of success, not of excellence; _ 


just as the counterfeiter is confident, and. sets the 
standard value upon his spurious coin, both because 
it will bring him that, and because, if he lets it go 
for less, it would expose the secret of his profession. 


| His assurance increases with the success and_ profit 


of his trade; he comes soon to think well of that 
i and of himself; seeks the best society and connex- 
ions, under the colour and pretence ofa well earned 
| fortune and reputation; -and, taken by others’ for 


\ what he affects to be, no one resents any suspicion of 


\his honour or integrity more sharply, or is more: 


‘clamorous against the misdeeds of. other's. But — 
(Bo ose his crimes—bring him out of his conceal- Po 


ments—cover him with shame’ and contempt, ‘tna 


he ae prove a mystery. of iniquity; his capabilities 
u rise himself as well as others; all of the decency, 
the philanthropy, the perm ener of the gentleman, 


which he had, is gone at once, and his heart swarms 


with “every species of crime and meanness. ‘So it 


will ‘turn out with-all the’ more refined and less 


a oe s 
ers of evil. which, in certain emergencies, under 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. (4B 


great pressures, or for chances of great advantage, 
will lay by the mask, and exhibit a front of brass 
that shocks and shames every beholder. Examples” 


of this are occurring every day through all the gra 


dations of society, and in individuals as little sus- 
pected as any others; some of them so distinguished 


that everybody knows and speaks of them; but. 


others, and by far the greater number, known only 
to those more. directly affected: by them. What we 
wish the reader to observe as pertinent to our inquiry 
is, that the prec e remarks show that men gene- 
rally have lower views of moral honesty, and of all 
the qualities essential to the fear of God and a re- 


spect for his revealed commands, than they pretend, 


or suppose, they have; and that their faith, as they - 
will have it called, is not a faith in things as they 


are, but involves a radical misconception of the 


Pa , “objects which it embraces. . — 


- There is another view of the s subject nah. though 
edupeeette to nature, is yet worthy to be considered. 


_ All men are ready to condemn hypocrisy, if "not to 


. 


boast that they are clear of it; ‘the very word is 
odious, and yet nothing is more common than some 


degree of it. If men, good and bad, were taken for| 


what they affeuts ti be, they would generally pass 
' for more than they are worth. No doubt some arel_ 


suspected of evil wrongfully: suspicion, however, | is 


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44 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


gloomy, and usually the issue of guilt: but know 
eee’ is lustrous; it is truth revealed and compre- 
_ hended. Genuine goodness so sharpens the sight 
3 3 ‘of inward corruption, that it is prone to be more 
 self-distrustful, than distrustful of others; but what 
of humility or goodness is genuine in most men, for 
want of due caution, is apt to be so pressed down 
with ‘adverse mixtures, that it is seldom visibly 
uppermost in their speech and conduct. Paul saw 

- nothing in the third heavens that: was of a nature to 
foster pride; but if he dwelt upon it merély as a 
vision by which he was distinguished, he might be 

_ lifted up above his measure. Hezekiah had that in 
him which he had lost sight of, and which, we are 
told, caused the Lord to leave him, that it might 
break out and bring him to a better understanding 
of his heart. © David said, in his prosperity, ‘ I shall 
never be moved;’ an expression of his satisfaction 


with earthly goods; an intimation that he had for- 
gotten his dependence, and begun: to prefer the gift 
to the Giver,—the streams to the fountain. 

It is difficult to keep under a light head and a self- 
complacent, self-seeking heart: they will rise to the 


~ 


top of every thing, and it requires a great weight to 
sink them;-and when sunk and shamed, they will. 
perhaps float and be airy beneath the visible surface; _ 
they will affect a lightness to conceal the sense of | 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 45 


~ « 


their condition, and endeavour to gain that place 


and confidence by impudence and pretension, which — "3 


they could never acquire by capacity and virtue. oe 
They will flatter, not bribe; they will provoke others, a 
by deference and kindness to be sure, to speak praise 

of them, which, if they had any proper modesty, 

any just self-estimation, they would blush to. hear, 


* 


and fall to pitying the weakness that could speak it. 
But not so: they think it discernment, moderate and 
candid judgment, and fall to praising the speaker, 
perhaps, with a view to enhance the value and 
authority of what he has said. There is a great 
- deal of this thing in the world, and it never would, 
of itself, remind us of greatness or goodness. It is 
like a doubtful coin; those who handle most of it, 
doubtless, could not get on well without it; they find 
their profit in it for a time, but we cannot tell what 
the end will be. Men, good men, must be greatly 
good, if they are not quite content, we will not say 
desirous, to be esteemed more highly than they 
deserve; but to know they are so esteemed, and to 
be lifted up by-it; to think it their due for no other 
reason, and to complain and take offence, when any 
happen to think differently, is a species.of hypocrisy, 
a deception in good earnest, a claiming of excellence 
which does not belong to them,—a proof that they 
are losing sight of themselves in their admiration 


“ 


46 POPULAR’ INFIDELITY. 


ofan image of others’ making; that they take pecu- 


liar pleasure in such attesting of their merits, and 
are in danger of preferring it to the ‘answer of a 
good conscience;’ that the judgment of men, rather 
than the judgment of God, is becoming the object 
of prevalent solicitude; and that the advantage, the 
credit of virtue, is more looked to, than virtue itself. 
We need not say that we have here the elements ° 
of infidelity. 

Let it, however, be especially considered, that 
these thoughts are not without application to those 
who have all along been more directly in view,— 


| persons professing to receive the Bible as the word — 


of God, rated as good and useful members of sorely, 
and yet acknowledging themselves to be destitute 


| of the life and power of religion. If there be this de- 


ceivableness of heart in good men, and this tendency 
to put themselves off for more than their real value, 
which ‘none are sharper to perceive or readier to 
believe than those who pretend to no religion; if they 
are apt to affect and appropriate as their own, graces 
and powers which others, whether discerningly or 
no, accredit to them; we are bound to conclude that 
this aptitude or proneness to deceive and be deceived, 
is much greater in those who have no motives, no 
principles to oppose it, such as humility, penitence, 
fear of God, or even consistency of character. Such 


Res 


Te 
sr 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 47 


persons are never rated according to their true cha- 
racter;' All observation shows this. Should we 
note thé. developments of: human character around 
us; should we reason from what transpires in. our 
own bosoms, we should be convinced that the moral- 
ity of secular men is a ‘ vain show3? that it is uncer- 
tain, not like the oak’ that. strikes its roots deeper 
and stronger in its foundation, while its branches 
spread and aspire to the skies, but like a feather in 
the air, sure to obey the direction of the wind, to 
rise and fall with it, yet settling down, down, at every 
intermission, till it fastens on the earth, and is seen 


_ to rise no more. Their morality wants a heart, a 


principle of life and durability; its motives neither 
look to, nor proceed from, virtue; but, like ‘the 
fool’s eyes, fix on any thing but God. . This ac- 
counts for its sad and frequent failures... Such men 
universally pretend to more than they have. They 
have principles of evil within them which are kept 
under, generally, from motives no better than the 
principles themselves,—motives, certainly, that can 
neyer purify the heart, and must indispose and steel 
it to those that can. Their-motives are such as they 
might have if there were no God: they are not drawn 
from his word, and, if they have any respect to their 
accountability to him, it is a respect of fear, not of 
jove; it implies no understanding or apprebation of 


ey 


f! : sii nls 
* , : ee 


48 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


; his character; it is a mere observing, hardly a fear- 
; ing, of his thunder; it is only nature’s involuntary 
recognition of its- Author; a blush of guilt that 

i vanishes with thought; something, like our daily 
; noticing of the presence of the sun, not as any thing 
Se _we have to do with or think of, except as it serves 
or incommodes ourselves. There is no God in it; 
_and if it may be said to bow at the shadow or thought 
of one, it isthe god of infidels, not the ‘true God 
who is reconciling the world unto. himself by Jesus 
Christ,’ but a god only having such perfections as it 
suits them to give him; a god who has no concern 
with rational creatures, but to. see that they are not 
destroyed by any irregular action of his works, who 
will make them amends for the accidents, losses, 


_and sufferings, which they cannot avoid, and who 


is complained of, when he crosses their desires, and 
- but spared, when he does them good; a god who is 


Ek 


' afar off, has no communication with his thinking 
_ creatures, and keeps them alive and permits them 
to multiply, nobody can tell for what. 

If we consider what their designs, motives, and 
affections fasten on, what they look to and centre in, 
all the faith we discover is, that God was somehow 
concerned in-the making of the world, and that they 
as his creatures do not exactly live without him. 
Is the desire of wealth, of knowledge, of office, the 


ak) iy le ; ‘. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 49 


ruling passion ?—every track leads to this path, every 
stream runs into this channel; there is no God, no 
world besides. Here the rock is formed, against 
which all other currents dash with no power to melt 
or bear it away. As we look upon the spectacle, 
we have only the idea that the rational being before 
us was made to lay up-money, to gain some applause 
and distinction from his fellows, and then die; or 
that he has lost his proper attraction, pursues no end 
suitable to himself or to the mind of his Creator, and 
is to be known as rational more by his feet and 
hands, than by any proof he gives of faith in the 
word of God, or in the worth of his own immortal 
nature. : : 

There are others, church-going people too, they 
are often,—persons neither good nor bad,—harmless 
creatures that live to enjoy themselves with others,} 
who seem to think that all which is committed to 
them to do, is to keep up the fashion of the world. 
From morning till evening, perhaps not from eyve- 
ning till morning, they are watching the pulse of 
fashion; every symptom of the creature, always sick 
at best, is studied as if the event of life turned upon 
it; all her whims are to be imitated, and he who has 
the start of others in, conformity, thinks himself 


1 «There is a sort of men, whose coining heads 
Are mints of all new fashions.’ — 


5 


> de 
50 a. FIDELITY. ae 


made for the time. These ay minds spend their 
strength in contriving and inventing fresh amuse- 
ments for themselves and others, in thinking and 
talking over the incidents and hap-hazards of the 

_ day, and in compliments and ados- preparatory to 

the coming prospect. They never talk on serious 
subjects, except as an act of penance; and he who 

does so in their presence, runs a chance of being 
thought a novice, unacquainted with the fashionable 
world,—a world where such things are not in vogue. 
While every thing about them, properly considered, 

is serious, grave as with the impression of moment- 

ous truth, they are light and thoughtless ; or, if they 

think at all, it is as people breathe, without knowing | 

it. Should they ever wear out, it will not be by a 
rational operation, but as a fire does, for want of fuel. 

They must have full scope and excitement: take 
these away from them, and they flounce and give ip 
signs of constraint, like a fish in shallow water, or ds, 
wilt inanimately, like a flower cut down in the sun. ‘ 
They: love. the shades through which the light of 
truth never breaks ; and the fewer thoughts and 
reflections they can do with, the happier they are. 
Would you punish them, bring out their temper, or 
discover their drift,—make them stay with them- oo 
selves, cross ee will, tax hom with the. neat 1 - 


Oo 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 51 


the useful Mi soy male of time, and you will discover 
at once that they have had, and will have, nothing to 
do with reality; ; it is a dull and gross affair; a weed in 
a bed of flowers, a jewel” set in iron, so thought, be- 
cause it is nature shown in the grain, truth shorn 
of fancy colours, and duty seen as it runs in practice. 
Their thoughts will not come down to so plain a 
thing; they live for other and gayer ends; and like 
the ‘ flower-shaped psyche,’ they fly and light, and 
light and fly awhile, nobody the better for their pre- 
sence, or the worse that they are gone. But were 
thinking creatures made simply to run these rounds ? 
no time for rest, no place for rational entertainment 
by the way! ‘Were they made to add, to multiply, 
and subtract with ciphers only? Do they know 
there i is a God ?—or knowing there is, do they ever 
think that they are known to him?. Patterns of 
civility, exact observers of propriety, quick avengers 
of neglects, do they give him a look ora bow of recog- 
nition, as he speaks and passes in his dispensations? 
‘The ox knoweth his owner,’- but these people do 
not know, do not consider, to whom they belong. 
Look through all their doings, pleasures, plans, and 
B. you will find no sympathy, no. pause, no check, 

4 caused by divine truth. -The affectation of good and 


mS faverent qualities proves some consideration for. 
.; them: but they have not this; they do not, whatever 


52 POPULAR. INFIDELITY. 


else they affect, so much as affect a show of devotion. 
As Lot’s wife, for looking back and not believing 
the word of the Lord, was changed into a pillar of 
salt, so they seem to be fashioned into an unnatural 
structure, ‘looking before and after,’ steeled against 
obedience, and bent on idols and self-indulgence. 
If you take from them the diction and metre of 
fashion, the thoughts. and affections which are bred 
in worldly fancies and amusements, what do you 
leave. them but empty vessels, mansions whose great 
inhabitants are kept in chains by usurpers, or pre- 
sented as strung up in bones, with no heart, no. 
flashes of wit and conscience, shadowing life and 
hope. They are ‘without God in the world;’ that 
is, they are without that influence from him, enter- 
ing into their affections, joys, plans, hopes, and 
shaping the conduct, which a belief of his word 
would impart. They are infidels, no better in con- 
dition and prospect, than those who acknowledge 
they are so; and if they do not know it, it is because 
they have not taken the trouble to be informed: they 
want the reflection necessary to conviction. — 

There can be no living after the manner above 
described, without ignorance of the word of God, 
(and to be ignorant of it, when we have it-in our 
hands, is to despise and reject it,) or without some 


inward, sleepy contrivance of our own, by which we 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 53 


underrate the blessedness promised to-obedience,. 
and hope to escape the punishment threatened against 
transgression,—and this, again, is infidelity. & 

‘Other remarks might be made in reference to this 
class of individuals, which would lead to the same 
conclusion. Asa general principle, it is worthy to 
be noted, that there is nothing which true faith 
prompts us to shun more resolutely than the ¢ appear- 
ance of evil.? The true believer sees nothing more 
to be dreaded than sin. He has such’experience of 
its bitterness, yea, of his proneness to it, that like 
“the prudent man,’ he ¢ foreseeth the evil and hideth 
himself.’ If called to meet it in any of the forms 
of temptation, he distrusts his strength, and attempts 
to stand up and go forward, only in the strength of 
the Lord. “Persons, who have none of this expe- 
rience, are already captives, ‘sold under sin.’ - They 
have made it their clement so long, and their thoughts 
and feelings ow in its channels so naturally, that 
nothing seems to be wrong. They do not identify 
its nature, or separate it from themselves. 

If we apply this principle.to the devotees of fashion 
and pleasure, to idlers at large, they will appear to 
-personate infidelity. Sin, considered abstractly, is 
no evil in their view. They never think that its 
nature is to obstruct all faith in the word of God,— 


that low apprehensions of its evil nature tend directly 
5* 


54 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


to produce diminishing impressions of the excellency 
of the divine law, and of the worth of the privileges 
and blessings of the gospel. In short, their views 
[ make ‘the manifold wisdom of God’ in the great 
plan of redemption by the sufferings and death of 
Christ, foolishness, a downright misconception of 
their condition and necessities. Entertaining these 
notions of sin, and affected by them in this manner, 
no wonder they are not troubled by it,and do not 
seek deliverance from it. Who will apply for grace 
when he feels that he has strength enough without 
it? Who that is whole will seek a physician? Who 
that is in no danger will fly to a refuge? Who can 
be penetrated with shame and sorrow for that which 
he deems no crime, or discredit to himself? Who 
will learn to depend on a foreign agency to live 
virtuously, when: virtue is his boast, and considered 
to be his birthright? No persons are in greater 
Steer of falling into these views of sin, and the 
unbelief they engender, than those to whom we 
have alluded. They are not, generally, addicted to 
distinguished iniquities,—things that’ expose them-__ 
selves, abash pride, and endanger character. They 
are strict observers of decency and moderation in 
sinning. They are only devoted to pleasures and 
amusements called innocent. They are not pious 


to be sure, but that is no crime, not a thing to be 


° ‘ey 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 5A 


repented of or alarmed at. Nothing is more com- 
mon, say they, and we may safely and without 
reproach go with the multitude in one respect, if we 
shun their vices in others. Thus they are confident; 
no temptations scare them, no danger of being 
brought near great offences along an inclined road 
of evil is: apprehended, and the only wonder i is, that 
they last so long; that they do not sooner and oftener 
slide, break through all restraint, and stand out as 
matured criminals. There is criminality in all they 
do, for they do nothing well; and not to do well, is 
to do wrong. Their great error is, that they do not 
see the sinfulness of sin in their forgetfulness of 
God; in their not rating and loving objects according 
to the measure of their worth and excellence. These 
things show that their nature has run wild from 
- goodness,—that: they are estranged from God; and 
to be estranged from him is the sum and essence 
of all sin, the very heart of infidelity,—that keeper 
of the conscience that shuts out the entrance of truth, 
and cries peace, peace, when all the peace there is, 
is only that, when pains and fears give way to death. 

If we examine the best virtues of. unconverted 
men generally, and particularly of such as we have 
last described, we shall find new light on the subject. 
It requires no great insight into human nature, to 


discover the remnants of a now fallen, but once 


de 


ie. 

56 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
glorious, structure; and, what is most remarkable, to 
see that the remains of this ancient greatness are 
more apt to be quickened and drawn out by their 
semblances and qualities, found in creatures, than 
by the bright and full perfection of them which 
is in the Creator;—that the heart puts on its most 
benign face, and sends forth prompt returns of 
gratitude and love to creatures who have bestowed 
“on us favour and displayed other amiable quali- 
ties, while - He, whose goodness is so great, so 
complete, so pervading, that there is none besides 
it,—the gifts and qualities, with which we are so 
readily enamoured, being his, and not his creatures’, 
except as they are permitted to pass through their 
hands to ours,—is unrequited, unheeded, unseen, 
though hanging out his glory from the heavens, and 
coming down to us in streams of compassion and 
love, which have made an ocean on earth that is to 
overflow and fill it. How strange it is, that all) this 
love, so wonderful in itself, so undeserved, so dif- 
fused, that we see it in every beauty, and taste it in 
| every enjoyment, —should be lost on creatures whose 
love for the gentler and worthier qualities of each 
other, runs so often into rapture and devotion! How 
strange that they should be so delighted with streams 

which have gathered such admixtures of earth, which 
cast up such ‘ mire and dirt,’ and have such shallows 


% _- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 57 
¥ 


and falls that we often fk our hopes in them,—as 
not to be reminded by them of the great and unmixed 
fountain whence they have flowed, or of the great 
ocean, to whose dark and unbottomed depths they 
will at last settle, as too earthy to rise to its pure 
and glorious surface! ‘There are many mysteries 
in human nature, but none greater than this: for 
while it shows man is so much a creature of sense 
and so devoid of faith, that objects, to gain his atten- 
tion and affection, must not only be present to him, 
but. have something of sense and self in them, we 
are still left to wonder how he could, with such 
manifestations of divine goodness in him, around 
him, and for him, have failed to see and adore them, 
and become so like a brute, as not to think of God, 
the original of all that is lovely, when thinking of 
those his qualities which so please and affect him in 
“ereatires: and this, though they be so soiled and 
defaced by sin, that his unmixed fondness for any 
the most agreeable of them, instead of being an 
accomplishment, is a sure indication of a mind ‘sunk 
greatly below the standard allotted to it by the 
Creator. | 

Our wonder will be raised higher still, if we con- 
sider that our nature, when most corrupt and per- 
verse, is not wholly lost to all sense of gratitude, but 


may be wrought upon by human kindness, when all 


* 
| 


58 : sarocan = 


the amazing -conipassiea tad love of God fail, to. 
affect it; if we consider that the very worst of men 
who set their faces. against - the heavens, alfronting 
the mercy and defying the majesty thereof, are 
sometimes so softened with a sense of singular and 
undeserved favours, that their hearts swell with 
grateful sentiments towards their benefactors, and 
something akin to virtue is kindled up where no- 
1g of the kind was seen before; we might think 
it incredible, if there was any doubting of what we 
see and know. When we see such men so ready to 
acknowledge their obligations to their fellows, and 
to return service for service; so impatient of being 
thought ungrateful, when they have any character or 
"interest to promote by it, and sometimes, when they 
have not; so strongly affected with the goodness of 
him who has interposed between them and temporal 
danger or death, and yet so little moved by the love 
of God in Christ, which has undertaken their rescue 
from eternal and deserved woes, and not merely 
their rescue, but their exaltation to fellowship with 
himself, and to the pleasures for evermore at his right 
hand,—a love compared with which the greatest 
love of creatures is as a ray of light to the sun and 
that ray mixed and darkened, while this is so dis- 
interested and free in the grounds and motives of it, 
that it is exercised towards those who have neither 


59 


merit to inyite, nor disposition to receive it; when 
we see this, and find that this love, so worthy in 
itself, so. incomprehensible in its degree and in the 
benefits. it would confer, is the only love to which 
they make no returns of thankfulness or regard, we 
may ascribe as much of it as we please to the hard- 
ness and corruption of their hearts, but that will not 
account for such conduct. Depravity, considered 
by itself, will not enable us fully to understand it. — 
Depraved, sensual, and perverse as they are, they 
have something in them that is kindled by human 
kindness, and why should it not be kindled by the 
greater ‘kindness of God our Saviour?’ It is not 
because it is a divine kindness; not that it is less 
needed—not that it is bestowed in less measure, or 
at less expense. And if it is because they do not 
apprehend this kindness, do not feel their need of it, 
do not see any thing affecting in the measure and 
expense of it, this is infidelity; and it grows out of 
an entire misconception of their own character, and 
of the character and law of God. It is a total blind- 
ness to distant and invisible good and evil. It isa 
venturing of every thing most important to them- 
selyes on an uncertainty, which they would not and 
could not do, if they had any understanding of the 
value of the interests at stake. They really see 
nothing important but the gratifications of sense and. 


60 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


time: still they have the remains of a capacity for 
something higher. These may be contemplated 
with profit, if not with admiration. They resemble 
the motions in the limbs and heart of animals, when 
the head is severed from the body. They are 
symptoms of a life that of itself must come to no- 
thing; a life that is solely pouring itself out on the 
ground. But as this is all the life they haye,. an 
image of life, and that only of life in death; and as 
the motions of it are only excited by the creature’ s 
kindness, we discover in their best virtues,.or rather, 
in their only breathings and indications of virtue, 
the evidence of a faithless heart. 

The different classes of people brought to our view 


in this chapter, generally consider themselves very 


innocent; some, because they are free from great 
vices, and others, because great vices have blinded 
their eyes to guilt. But it is observable that the 
ground of this supposed innocence is the same in 
all, and lies in mistaken views of the evil nature of 
sin, and of the gospel plan of delivering them both 
from its pollution and curse; so that the most virtuous 
one of them is as much an infidel-in this as the most 
vicious, that he does not believe himself to be totally 
ruined by sin, totally destitute of any thing accept- 
able to a holy God, and totally dependent on him 
for grace to renew and fit the soul for the bliss of 


5 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 61 


heaven. Their virtues, too, though in some more 
clearly manifested than in others, are in all the same 
as to the grounds and objects of them. They are 
such as love, gratitude, sympathy with the distresses, 
and patient endurance for the welfare, of others. 
We see much of these in one way and another, and 
sometimes very attractive examples of them. But, 
as has. been shown, their aptest, if not their only 
exercise, is in view of the favours, claims, and vir- 
tues of creatures. These display acts of love, grati- 
tude, and self-denial, strongly fastening on and 


ending in the creatures, while they are in no degree 


_ moved by the greater occasions and excitements 


of these virtues, found in the dispensations and 
perfections of the Creator. These very virtues 
then, which are more the distinction of some than 
of others, yet in some way the boast of all, are, as 
truly as their vices, the proof of rank infidelity— 
that mixture of folly and estrangement which seems 


“to say, ‘there isno God.’ 


3&& They all, too, pay a certain homage to virtue— 


some by their unwillingness to be thought without 
it; others by their sensibility to manifestations of it 
in friends and benefactors; and others, far the greater 
number, by false pretensions to it. We allude to 
this now as a proof of peculiar depravity, especially 


in those who haye been considered as claiming for 
ai 


62 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


themselves a special exemption from it. Their very 
claim to virtue, their affectation of it, shows that their 
nature and interest plead in its behalf. This part 
of their conduct seems to acknowledge, in some 
sense, the worth and advantages of Christian virtue. x 
And thus far, at least, it serves to evince that the — 
temptations to sin and irreligion ‘not only do not — 
make their appeal to the reason of man, but are op- * 
posed both by his reason and interest. If we allow — 

that eo. are strongly prone to condéal their vi ces 

and to display virtues, whether they have tem ot ‘ 
not, there can be no better evidence that immoralit; a 
and impiety are found to be inexpedient in the pre-- 4m 
sent life. It shows that the witnesses against them ars 
are thick on every side; that the practice of vet * 
not merely a disadvantage, but a wrong and a vio- 

lence against reason, as well as a. contempt and 
breach of the will of God. That must be a erageita eo 


PJ 


wickedness, a sin-loving sinfulness indeed that Sg te 
abashed and reproved at every turn, and ‘till sins 

on with pain and hazard, without the hope ¢ of ‘ade 
vantage, and against the strongest pleadings of Re 
better mind. Such persons sin without a gain; sil 

if they are to be credited, without a love of it too. 
They sin with acknowledged disadvantage and in- — 
jury to themselves. Indeed, on their principles, 
nobody can tell why they sin at all, unless it be as 


a 


o4> 4° 
« ts 
=. 


", 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 63 


water runs downhill, because it cannot stop itself, 
and has a seeking to get as low as it can. -They 
have that in them which rejects the testimony of God 


concerning his Son, brings his counsel to naught, 


_ casts back his gifts at his feet, and thus exalts itself 


a<4 
faith without reflection, be delivered from CD in 
their sins, and obtain heaven without a cross; then 


above all that is called God.’ If they could have 


"well and good: they: would like to have it so. They 


are barely. (for they seem not to study iy 


n +h about it) willing to be ‘saved on their own 
terms, and see no- -wisdom in any other. Hence 


their wonderful ingratitude for redemption. ‘Hence 


__ the doctrine of Christ is clouded and deprived of its 


i influence, by their misconceptions of it and 
- of their own. character. Their minds are filled with 
- mean and unworthy thoughts and suspicions of God, 


which are but the types and shadows of themselves, 


%, pointing to. those revelations of great depravity, 


whic hi they are so apt to make on occasions of temp- 


tation and affliction. 


“There are times and events which. ‘try men) 8 
noules and bring to light ‘the hidden things of dark- 
ness.’ It seems to be a general law of God’s deal- 


ings with his rational creatures, to give them pres- 


sure enough of some kind, to make them show out 
what they are. This is perhaps a reason why the 


~ 


i: sie 


a4 


Re. 
TT ~ 4 
oh 


5 i 
a 
$4. POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


actors in great deceptions and iniquities seem to be 
so often struck with infatuation and a strange pro- 
pensity to self-disclosure. But there is nothing un- 
natural in it. There are always folly and miscalcu- 
lation in sin: it is the weakest as well as the worst 
of “things; it is as stupid as it is criminal. Still 


_ there is, besides this natural tendency of sin, a ten- 


dency in the dispensations of God to bring out the 


real character of men. And none are more apt to 


disappoint our expectations, (unless indeed we have 


profited by observation, so as to expect little from 


them,) than those who, without any pretence or 


show, of piety, make large pretensions to the moral 
virtues, and have indeed a fair appearance of them. 
They sometimes, all at once, without any apparent 
maturing process, develope a capacity for impiety and 
crime that would shock the hardiest infidel to wit- 


ness. Hazael, no doubt, had been a faithful servant; _ 
he had the confidence of his king, and, if he were ‘ 


not a dissembler, was confident of his.own virtue, 
when he came to consult the prophet, Elisha, con- 
cerning the recovery of his master’s health. But 
so great was his capacity for iniquity, that ‘the man 
of God wept’ as he looked upon him; and when 
Hazael inquired for the occasion of his tears, he an- 
swered, ‘ because I know the evil that thou wilt do 
anto the children of Israel.?- And when told the 


oor 


2 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 65 


crimes he would commit—confident that he could 
not be guilty of such deeds—Hazael replies in that 
haste which intimates either disgust or resentment, 
‘But what! is thy servant a dog, that he should do 
this great thing?? And Elisha answered, ‘The 
Lord hath showed me that thou shalt be king over 
Syria.’ Here was the temptation; and, forewarned 
as he was, what did he do? He returned to his 
master with a lie in his mouth, the secret abomina- 
tions of his heart were unloosed, he murdered the 
helpless king, and ‘reigned in his stead.’ So it 
turns out with numbers of this class. But one in- 
stance is as good as many, to show that there is no 
stability, no principle, no nature of goodness in any 
of them. Should God lay his hand upon the best 
of them, as he did upon his servant Job, they would 
disclose their great sinfulness, if not in abandoning 


tw 
Wo 


pep tentelves to vices and crimes, yet in more direct 
and expressive manifestations of enmity to. him. 
Should he -afflict them with sores, break up their 
peace, take away their possessions, children, and 
friends, they would not. require a special tempter, 
they would show, before half the trial was over, that 
their service, their virtue, had been for reward; 
they would, not prompted by another, but. self- 
moved, ‘curse him to his face;’ and, instead of sub- 


mitting, and, if need were, dying; like a rational 
ex 


ies 


66 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


creature returning to God, they would fly from 
him, and suffer themselves to be taken, as they do 
the robber to take their money, only when they 


‘could resist it no longer. 


It is observable that when troubles and crosses do 


not break the human -will and render it submissive 


to the will of God, they only stir up its resistance to 


discharge itself in complaints against him. Such 
complaints always. suppose that the sufferings in the 
case are not deserved, are unjustly inflicted, and 
altogether inconsistent with the divine wisdom and 
goodness in the government of the world. It will 
be seen at once that this view is wholly at variance 
with any true knowledge of God, his word, or the 
heart of man, and that it disqualifies for the exercise, 
as well as disproves the existence, of the lowest de- 
gree of faith in either as revealed in the Scriptures. 
These complaints indeed assume ‘man to be wiser 
than God, and affect a desire to govern, to be out 
of his hands, and to be without him, and. without 
hope from him, in the world. Nothing can more 
clearly express distrust of his word and perfections, 
or more immoderately exalt the wisdom and merit 
of man. On the ground of these assumptions, his 
will is to prevail in every thing; he is to be con- 
sidered as knowing what is best for him, as entitled 


to what he has, as needing no correction, and as 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 67 


wrenged by every pain he feels—a pretension in 
which he swings clear from God and all duty to 
him; not to mention that it makes him infallible, 
and God an erring and unauthorized disturber of 
human affairs. We say not that men ever believe ~ 
all this, when they stop to reflect; but in the haste 
of passion and interest their faith may go on at this _ 
'- rate. But whether they be said to believe it or no, 
they appear sometimes to act and speak it. They 
act, if not on the faith, on the presumption of it, 
which is worse; for hastily to presume that respect- 
ing Ged and his dispensations, which is so extrava- 
gant and impious that we cannot considerately be- 
lieve it, is a singular aggravation of guilt. 
Te entertain an injurious suspicion of another’s 

character, without so much as inquiring whether there 

be any ground for it,is proof of no ordinary depravity. 

It indicates a delight in evil surmises, a love of evil for 

its own ‘sake, an ineonsideration for the rights of 
others, which, under protection from personal harm, 
would not stop at any injustice. Men may be so 
prejudiced and depraved, as to be greatly liable to 
form wrong and ‘injurious conclusions even after 
much inquiry for the truth. It may also be very dif- 
ficult to convince them of their error, and still, they 
may have too much conscience, too much considera- 


tion, to adopt such conclusions, without any examina- 


4 
%, 


68 POPULAR INFIDELITY. un 


tion, or to retain them, without some persuasion of 
their truth. There are, if we may so say, marks 
of rationality in their guilt, concessions at least that 


4 
they hold themselves responsible for what they do_ 


and think. But that should be thought of those 
~ who never ask whether they are right or wrong; 
who are wrong chiefly on subjects of the greatest 
moment to themselves, and most criminally wrong, 
because subjects of such a nature that a little reflec- 
tion would be sufficient to set them right? If it 
argues peculiar depravity in men to take up and eredit 
a report, fatal to the reputation of one who has been 
long known and spoken of by them as distinguished 
for his goodness, without concerning themselves to 
know the truth of it; still, as a good man at best-is 
imperfect and sometimes! falls from the just eleva- 
tion he has ‘gained, it is not so very wonderful, 
though so ye ery wicked, that they should do this, as 
that they should presume to impeach the justice and 
wisdom of God in his dealings with them, without 


being at all awed by his perfections or. their own | 


ignorance and guilt; without indeed so much as in- 
quiring. whether there may not be good reasons for 
what he. does—reasons looking after their best wel- 
fare and growing out of his perfection:—and this, 
when in their prosperity, when he allowed them to 
have their wey in every thing, though i it were a way 


a> 
Py FS 


x. an 
x 
aa. - POPULAR INFIDELITY. 69 
ef disservice to him and-of destruction to themselves, 
none were more certain to take occasion te sin from 


his goodness, or more ready to profess their patience 


and pleasure to centinue in his hioaetts! What has 
f iehanged their views? What has put to flight their 


reverence and consideration at-onee? God has not | 
5 qb His goodness is ne more tarnished or di- 
minished than the sun’s light and greatness, by the 
clouds that have darkened their prospect. Must they 
always have a clear sky? Must they be visited only 
with gentle breezes and heavenly dews? Must there 
be no winds and storms? Must they be exempt from 
the general laws which the Creator has established? 
Must he work a perpetual miracle in their behalf, 
that nothing may give them pain, and that every 
thing may go as they would» have it? Suppose he 
should, and should de the mind of all in th re same 
way? ‘Would there be: any room for hi » to her * 
will cf his own? Would any thing but ee 
disorder follow? ‘Should the wishes of others ae 


flict with their own, which must prevail? ‘They, or 
others, on this plan, must be subjected to disappoint- 
ments and crosses; and thus no way sec 18 to be 
left for God to silence their complaints and secure 
their approbation, but to let them have their “plea- s 


sure in every thing, and to do his own pleasure 


with respect to all others. What importance then 


— 


he 


4 


70 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
ae 


do they take to themselves! What ignorance and 
distrust of God do they betray, in their murmurs 
against his dispensations! The moment they are 
tried and shaken a little, they fall off from him, like 
the dead. limbs and leaves of a tree. They havea 
certain elevation, but there is no life and vigour in 
it; and, when its earthly props are taken away, it 
falls to the ground. They are like those people who 
have great trust and pleasure in their physician, 
when their health is returning and the prospects of 
worldly enjoyments are brightening afresh; but no 
sooner do new pains and doubtful symptoms arise, 
than they lose all confidence, and vent their impa- 
tience in reproaches. The doctor must give them 
instant relief, or he has no skill; he must be ever at 
their side, or he is inattentive, though the world 
beside is dying for want of his assistance. 

Here is a mistake which people often make in 
_ complaining of God. They appear to think that 
they are very special objects of his attention—that 
he comes out of his way to reach and afflict them.. 
They forget that they are each but one of a world, 
and that clouds and sunshine are no respecters of 
persons. They w7// see at once the reason and ad- 
vantage of his dispensations. They must feel the 
profit; they must have a sight and taste of it, and — 
not be compelled to trust and look for it. Like a 


bi 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 7 
* 


child that is put to a task, with the promise of a re- 
ward to-morrow, they become impatient and idle, 
while the reward is out of sight; but only bring it to 
their eye and keep it there, and they will do and - 
suffer twice as much as was required to obtain it. In 


affliction they reason like a child whose thoughts are 


taken up with the: smart of a burn, and therefore 
refuses to be comforted by the fire, forgets its design, 
and thinks it has no use but to burn: or like a child 
that has been spoiled by indulgence, they think it 
proper that every will should bend to theirs, take 
every cross as a wrong, and resist every invasion 
with as much sharpness and confidence as if the 
world were alla nest and they the wasps that made it. : 
‘There is something fundamentally wrong in the 
moral condition of such people. We see nothing 


of the character of goodness in them, and as little of 


the reflection and support of faith. Instead of 
making other things their appendages, they seem to 
append to and lean on every thing. They are like 
vessels that are kept from shrinking, or falling to 
pieces, only by the air that fills them. They are 
given to change, and the reason is or seems to be, 


that they know not what well enough is, or know- 


ing, cannot let it alone. It will do for children 


to complain of crosses, and to desire novelties, and 


_ we should bear with them, if they have little reason 


desires, not let their desires conquer them. “Ki 
ing the little there is to choose between one ‘and 
another thing, except so far as it may be more or 


Jess turned to our spiritual account, we ought to be 


diffident of our choices, and: at most, to conclude that 
we should profit little by that which the ‘highest 
wisdom, tempered with the most condescending 
goodness, denies to our desires. What is less agree~ 
able to faith and reason, than the conduet of a rational 
being, discontented with his present condition, and 
languishing for this and another thing, as if nothing 
allotted to him were such as it should be, or such as 
he might safely determine to have it? The kind of 
eomputation which we are disposed to make in these 
matters, is very decisive of our character. ‘Faith is 
not apt to turn chooser of the bounties of God, but 
attaches chief value to that which bears the clearest 
stamp of his will, regarding more the good intent, 
than the sensible fruition, of the gift. It indulges no 
large expectation, especially no immoderate craving, 
of temporal enjoyment, well assured that but little 
ean be lost here at most, and that nothing can be in- 
tended to afford us rest, which we must so. soon 
leave and our fondness is so apt to turn to our 
harm. It makes us afraid to complain that we have 
so little to enjoy; it rather fills us with wonder that 


ULAR INFIDELITY. 73 


have so much. It always looks before it leaps, 
thas the manhood to bear with present ills, so 


he, the best result at last. 


How admirable are the reflections and actions 


prompted by the genuine faith of the Christian, con- 
trasted with those of the complaining, restless spirit 
of unbelief! When he comes to try a new situa- 
tion, he expects to find it little better, perhaps worse, 
than the one he leaves. If things are not righé 
at home, in himself, he knows that things abroad, 
out of himself, will not make him happy. He is 
able, like the bee, to extract sweets from the bitter- 
est flowers, (flower to him every thing that will 
yield a sweetness,) and to feed, in inclement seasons, 
on the honey that is in his hive, that is, in himself, 
through the culture and the treasuring of kind and 
pious affections. He lets patience have her ‘ perfect 
work,’ because that is the way for him to be made 


‘perfect and entire.’! ‘He inherits the promises | 


through faith and patience.’? He ‘has need of pa- 
tience, that, after he has done the will of God,’ and 
suffered according to his will, he may receive the 
promised reward; for in due time he knows ‘he shall 
reap, if he faint not.’ He knows that the final re- 
ward is sure—that it will come at last—and that it 


1 Jam. 1. 4, 2 Heb. vi. 12. 3 Heb. x. 36, 41 Gal. vi. 9. 
fi 


long as there is promise or hope of their conducting. 


cai Ua oe 


. . te POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

is so great that when it comes, it will abundantly 
recompense all his work, yea, and patience too.1 He 
has in the most trying allotments ‘ the patience of 
hope,’ the sweetness and evenness of a mind at peace 
with God. How happy then is he that truly con- 
fides in Ged; that has ‘his fruit unto holiness,’ both 
‘the hundredfold’ in this life, and in the end, ‘ life 
everlasting !”? 

Now, if the task is easier, and the benefit greater, 
.what can excuse our folly and guilt, or rather what 
can make them greater, if we will not give up our- 
selves to be ordered by his guidance, and will not 
submit to the strokes and burdens which he may lay 
onus? The task is easier, for nothing is harder 
than to strive against God, and to have all our 
crosses aggravated and our pains imbittered, by 
restless, corroding, and despairing appetites and fu- 
ries. The benefit is greater than if we could by 
resistance have our own wills, and enjoy the world 
to the full: for ‘God is not unrighteous to forget’ 
our ‘labour of love,’ and our ‘ patience of hope,’ and 
will confer on us a great and eternal reward. But 
in the world there is nothing permanent and dura- 
ble; and if there were, it would not be suitable to 
us, because how long soever that might last in itself, 
yet we could not last to enjoy it. Though our tem- 


© \Heb: x. 37. ?Rom. vi. 22. Mark x. 80, 


a ow 


_POPULAR INFIDELITY. 75 


- poral goods and comforts were not movable, yet we 


are; though they might stay with us, yet we could 


‘not stay with them; and though they should procure 


many advantages and pleasures for us, yet that would 
make the pain and loss of parting with them greater, 
and by attaching us to life here, might cheat us out 
of life hereafter. It clearly does not suit our best 
reason to be greatly anxious for distinctions and 
comforts here; but there is as much true reason as 
piety in the counsel, to be ‘always abounding in the 
work of the Lord,’ and that upon the ground, that 
“we know our labour is not in vain in the Lord.”+ 
An inordinate love of the world in some shape is 
a principal source of impatience, murmuring, and 
unbelief among Christians. Every thing here is so 
uncertain that, unless we rest upon something more 
stable, we shall be the subjects of perpetual change. 
When the world rises in importance to us, that will 


magnify our disadvantages and losses, and propor- 


_ tionably shut out from our view the objects of faith, 


-and from our hearts the cemforts of our interest in 


them. . We are thus borne off upon a dangerous sea, 
without any.certain direction and object, and every 
wind rocks, and troubles, and alarms us. If we 
well consider it, we shall learn to set lightly by 
ereatures, that we may not have an ill farewell with 
11 Cor, xv. 58, a s 


76 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


them at last; we shall not envy the distinction and 
happiness of those worldly minds that seem to reap 
the fruit of their service and toil in the success and 
glory of their affairs. They find but a show and 
semblance of the reality which they seek in these 
things; ‘they weary themselves for very vanity;’ 


“4 


they fulfil in their experience, and in their end, 
the inspired declaration, ‘man walketh in a vain 
shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain.’ Sorrow 
and repentance is the only end to which they will 
come at last, and the best end to which they can 
come in time, and the sooner it comes the better for 
E them; ‘for the end of those things,’ rested in, ‘is 

- death.”? | 

It would be unaccountable that the Christian, who 
has tasted the bitterness of sin, and the sweetness ~ 
of pardon and hope, who has been under the conduct 
and in sight of the world to come, should again be 
found spending his ‘money for that which is not 
bread, and his labour for that which satisfieth not,’ 
had. we no experience of his infirmities, and his— 
proneness to divide the heart between God and the ie % ; 
world. .Hence the necessity of his many correc- ay oe 
tions and sorrows. Hence we discover the great ai 
goodness and wisdom of God, in the uncertain con- 
tinuance and value of all earthly possessions. He 


1 Psal, xxxix. 6. 2 Rom, vi. 21. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. Ta 


kindly corrupts these streams and undermines these 
foundations, that we may not rest here to our harm. 
He makes ‘the way of the transgressor hard,’ and 
blocks up the ‘broad road’ of sinners, that he may 
win them by present difficulty to think of future 
good, and by the present poverty of their joys, to 
seek that ‘fulness of joy which is in his presence.’ 
He thus sets himself like a sun in our view, serving 
us by that which we deem disservice, and enlighten- 
ing us by that which we miscall darkness. If that 
which most endangers our greatest good is the 
greatest evil, then prosperity is often.a greater evil 
than adversity, and what is best for us is often that 
which is most painful, and most nearly slays us to 
the world.t| The vapours and clouds which gather 
in the sky, always leave it clearerand purer. They 
obscure for a while the lights of heaven, but these 
soon come out again with a softened and more cheer- 
ful effulgence. The ancients were in great fear and 
imagined evil from the eclipses of the sun, and still 
- the sun was unchanged; it had as much light and 
$ % “eibry as ever, aS many planets were moved by its 
attraction, and only the harmless shade of a body 
that could never shine, except in a lustre not its 
own, had got between them and the delight of their 
eyes. So it happens in lesser systems, in our own 


1 James iv. 4 


7) aes: 


718 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


experience. When darkness or tribulation comes 


on us, we are apt to start and fear, ‘as though some 


strange thing had happened to us.’?. The comfortable 


countenance of the ¢ Light of the world’ is perhaps 
veiled for a little, and we are left, it may be, to be 
‘partakers,’ though slightly, of the darkness that he 
experienced in the extremity of his suffering for our 


sakes; b tit ill befits us to complain, to despond, to 


doubt. that « his glory shall be revealed,’ and ¢that 
we shallyaled” be glad in it with exceeding joy.” 
These things should not move us out of our course 
of duty or stay us in it; but, like the moon when 


she suffers an eelipse, we should continue on, losing 


-no motion and no , order, till we regain that presence 


* 
° 
“ie Ps 
% hy Pat 


of which we are deprived, and which gives us all 


_the glory we have, whether it be for our joy or for 


the light and comfort of others. We should be too 
simple to wonder, if we take alarm sometimes where 
no danger is, and too knowing, though knowing so 
little, to be confident in deciding against the good- 
ness of measures, the reasor ons of which are hid in 
the wisdom of God. Alas! that we should ever 
in our troubles charge God foolishly, and quickly 


conclude that all these things are against us. They 
come not because God is willing to afflict, but to Ww 


expose our dangers and defeat our foes. They 


1 t Pet. iv. 12. ny 


- 


“ * * 
noe Om at j 


ie 


* ™ f 
Fa? o M% a if a 


| 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 79 


would call us off from the world, take away our 
false dependencies, and make us confess that ‘all 
our springs,’ those of comfort, as well as those of 
strength, are ‘in him.’! So. great is the pride and 
weakness of nature, that we but deceive ourselves, 
if we think it safe to have much of the world in our 
hands. Our glory is to live above it, and to do this 
is to ‘live by faith on the Son of God,’ for “this is 
our victory over the world, even our faith. > Faith 
puts down the world, by spreading over it the glory 
of Christ, the bright shadowing of ‘better things to 
come.’ But the world, rising u > fastens on our 
pride, drives us from a throne of grace, and causes 
us to come to God, if come we do; with greater 
thoughts of ourselves than of him, ‘and no wonder 
we go away without comfort; » Ao ‘God resisteth 
the proud, and giveth grace only to the humble.” 

We are thus left to our complaints, without conso- 
lation and without freedom, while the thoughts and 
affections of the truly humble and faithful, escape 
from the solitude anda constr aint of earth, like birds 
released from their cage, and lose themselves in the 


lustre and expanse of a native heaven. As the 


shaken tree roots deeper, as the blast that beats down 


the flame causes it to rise higher, so they, when 


se 


brought low py adversity, mount upward, and, when 


! Blatt Lxxxvii, hs 2 James iv. 6. 


“ai 


his Sruth and rfections, he ‘will be 


80 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
— 

shaken by: the storms, bind themselves closer to the 

rock they are resting on. They have the victory 


through our Lord Jesus Christ, and come what will, 


come sorrow and bereavement, come sickness and 
death, they merever vanquished, He that is in 
them is ‘greater than all.’ Such is the reasoning 
and the operation of faith. It does not estimate the 
events of life, according to the suggestions of a world- 
ly policy. Nothing more strongly indicates the fatal 
prevalence of unbelief, than a restless, complaining 
spirit. Such a mind can hardly have the persuasion 
there Is a God; much less can it have a due impres- 
sion of his perfections. It feels all the insecurity _ ‘ 
and has all the trouble it would, if God had made | 


& x Zt 
no promises, ; ‘and exerted no wisdom and Pee ee 


Oyodia 


bring all things toa just and happy consummatic He. 
How *, the resources, how dread the comfc ts 
of a faithless mind! and that mind is ida 
ess “cannot find repose 1 the arms of a 
By ee and rejoice to feel its care 
Ns n its control. ‘Hanging our | 1opes on the 
4 and ¥ iipifections deeply, sweetly rooted in 


< 


all troubles, < a great shade i in a wear pe 
the morning pe" ae face of x 


and its ae 


# i ie 


, 
'* ing 
x E 


Pir as 


‘oe 
- 

<: ee | Fry. 

as < 


ex 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. SL 


CHAPTER IV. 


Moral worth of incidental actions and opinions—Their peculiarity with 
reference to the objects of faith—Proper estimate of worldly inte- 
rests—Singularity of religious indecision—Its contrariety to reason 
and analogy—Casual devotion—Its absurdity—Its action consider- 
ed as the cause and fruit of infidelity—All true faith considered 
as necessarily influential in proportion to the value of its object— 
Prevalent inattention to the Scriptures—Comnexion between faith 
and knowledge—Infidelity of those who give but a casual atten- 
tion to religion—Their hope—Their conduct contrasted with their 
faith and caution in business affairs—Their singular inconsist- 

-ency—The faith and practice of a nominal believer compared ~ Pe 
with those of a professed infidel— What there is to choose between 
them—Religious pretenders—Their liability to self-delusion from 

the facility yg whiehthey gain credit, ~~ wat 


~ Aertows, Aseotally and coldly sia, Si opi- 

Lic hich, like the features of the face, are ours | #) 
without our volition, and to which we are chiefly 
paniial pee. they a are ours, theugy i 


Neither are a: instinctive, for i it séti eriave e actior s 
. and desires havea: suitable ends, buf these seem to — 
; have no end at all; none, traly, w which they aspire to _ 

con me which — entitle them to to 


i 1» OS 
* “ 


82 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


acts and opinions of many seem to be of this charac- 
ter. It is no uncommon thing for persons, without 
any consciousness of the process, to confound truth 
and error, reason and fancy; to take the flashes of 
the animal spirits for the light of evidence; to think 
they believe things to be true or false, when they 
only fancy them to be so, and fancy them to be so, 
only because they would have them so, or, what is 
easier, because such is the fancy of others. Such 
persons have an accidental faith and religion—con- 
veniences that never stand in the way of their de- 
_ sires. rf 
ee But what renders this peculiarity worthy of par- 
ticular consideration is, that it respects matters 
_which they confess to be of greater importance than 
any other, and matters too whose nature and excel- 
lency must strongly engage the heart which they 
engage at all, because the heart will love something 
strongly and can find nothing else that will bear a 
comparison with them—nothing, indeed, which they 
do not make a trifle, or at least convert into a mere 
», hint of the good they contain—causing it, whether 
by its worthlessness or value, to point to themselves, 


ee 


as the greatest and worthiest objects of our desire 


and search. That from persons so considering them, 


these objects so transcendent and inviting that they 


‘si must needs _ transport ies i they engage, sa 


oe a * 


- ss ai 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 83 


receive only a casual attention, a respect so much 
below what they pay to other things that it seems 
more like an intentional slight, than a conscious ob- 
servation of them—is a singularity in the practice 
of rational creatures, which no philosophy could lead 
us to presume, and no discretion allow us to credit, 
if we did not see it daily before our eyes. 

A just and rational appreciation of these objects 
does not indeed hinder our paying to worldly ad- 
vantages a due regard, neither despising nor adoring 
them; not slighting their use in the present state 
nor letting them abate our ardour for the more ex- 


Pd 


cellent glory and riches of another; not depending a 
on them for distinction and happiness, but looking 
ms to them as means of doing good; not lifted up by | 
the influence and respect which they procure, so as 
to despise others, or fall into the weakness of esteem- 
ing ourselves made regal and absolute by them, as 
petty princes often are, by the cringing and service 
of minions, of whom it is hardly a degradation to 
affect to be their creatures, but still, whose import- 
ance is shown to better advantage in the event, than * 
that. of their masters who take their consequence 
from it, and are induced thereby to set an unnatural 
value upon their smiles and lay claim to that. 
homage from: ¢ equals which could only be their due. 
SS aaiees of them. ‘If religion did whey 5 


er 
2 
a, . dite > ™ c 
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84 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


seid arbitrarily withdraw men from the pursuit of 
worldly interests, it would be strange, as things are, 
ie muty did not act counter to it; but, when it only 
claims to regulate that pursuit and to turn those in- 
terests to the best account, making them all subser- 
vient to ends which are acknowledged to be unspeak- 
ably more important, yet abstracting nothing from 
the enjoyment of them here; it is passing strange 
it should set so lightly on their minds, that they 
scarcely know if there be any such thing, and con- 
cern themselves as little to secure it, as if it were 
but a mere shadow of the good which they so 
eagerly seek from this troubled and uncertain world. 
There must be some cause of this, different from 
any to which it is usually referred. Their conduct 
with respect to all other objects, bears some analogy 
to their professed convictions; but this, confessedly 
the most adorable and worthy object, is contem- 
plated, if contemplated at all, with a kind of irreso- 
lution which as properly bespeaks their dread as 
their desire of it—their desire, as fearing they may 
need it—their dread, as not relishing its excellence, 
and as having insulted and forfeited it by a practical 
preference of other interests which they dare not 
profess to esteem before it—leaving them in a state 
_ of indecision, wherein their thoughts reach not to 
it, and rest so easily with them, that a mere profes- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 85 


sion of regard to it comes in their view to compen- 
sate for the want of regard itself. ; 
This singularity of which we are speaking, is 
often found in the character of men who are so very 
moral in most respects, that it would seem hardy to 
deem them irreligious.. But, as God has given rea- 
son only to man, thus making him a noble and know- 
ing creature, it is very singular that man should em- 
ploy that reason in all his moral and social actions 
and duties, and yet only do the acts of God’s worship 
and service with indifferency of mind, or when some 
great event or calamity rouses him to it; that he 
should perform his relative duties, his duties to man 
with such design and constancy, as that his whole life 
may. be compared to a volume written with forecast _ 
of the ends it should answer, while the thoughts and 
acts which signify any recognition of God and his 
claims, are but the parentheses which might be left 
out without breaking the sense, and, we might add, 
without so much as blemishing the morality of the 
author. Such casual thoughts and devotions do 
less honour than injure so worthy an object as they 
aspire to: they do greatly affront the Divine Ma- 
jesty by denying to him the chief homage of that 
faculty in the bestowing of which he has chiefly ho- 
noured us; they would even degrade him below 
ourselves, by apportioning to him less care and — 
8 


al - 


86 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


respect than are given to his creatures; paltry, cost- 
less things that they are, they would take the place 
of faith and devotion, when they have not so much 


of the grace of consideration and design, as is ex- 
cerns, such misplacing of his affections, as would 


pressed in an idle mimickry of them. They indeed 


evince such indifference to man’s most weighty | 
3 


leave it in doubt, if we knew nothing more of him, 
whether he be a rational creature or no: for to be 
able to think of God as a being proper to worship; 
to be capable of a religious sentiment, of a spiritual 
advancement and attend no more to it; to trust all 
which he owns to be most important to casual 
thoughts, thoughts which he neither bids nor heeds, 
is such an impertinence, rather such an impersonal- 
ity of mind, that as in the stare of idiocy, we cannot 
_ tell whether there be thought in it, or whether it be 
j 4a mere animal surprise. 
_ Such absence of reason and consideration in the 
practice of man in reference to this subject, while 
in theory he acknowledges its incomparable import- 
ance, and while he is lively to the obligation, and 
thoughtful in the discharge, of his relative duties, is 
not to be accounted for without the supposition of 
that darkness and unbelief of mind which shuts out 
from the soul all communion with God and all sen- 
sible realization of his truth. He acts a part so un- 


nae teen 


eee 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 87 


suitable to his nature and interests, that we should 
consider it, if our views were straight on this sub- 


ject, proof of the greatest weakness and self-decep- 


af not of something worse and wilder. On 


lon, 
n 25 tters of astounding moment he now wills; in an 
insfiatt he wills not; in another he knows not whe- 
ther he wills or no. He importantly aims at no- 
thing, and to nothing comes. He lives and dies 
unimproved by the experience of others, and unim- 
proving others by his own. Such indecision, such — 
an end in relation to the affairs of the world, would | 
indicate an abandonment of our proper nature, and 
whatever we may think of it as affecting the higher 
concerns of eternity, certain. it is that it cannot be 
the fruit of considering them; and not to consider _ 
them, when we admit our high concernment in 
them, and are summoned to it by so many argun 
ments of invitation and as with the alarm-voice 
of the spirit within us and of all nature around us, 
is to despise and reject them as in our slumbers, and 
to become infidels, if not by the action of our rea- 
son, yet by the chance of our indifference. 

Such treatment of the claims of religion is the 
direct effect of infidelity; and this conviction must be 
theirs who will consider not only what influence the 
revealed will of God is entitled to have, but what it 
actually has, on minds that believe it. . are 


% 


88 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


universally curious to look into futurity, and to 
know something of their condition after death; and 
nothing could be more worthy, or better adapted, to 
sway their conduct, than a thorough persuasion of 
the truth of the revelation which God has made on 
this subject. When they come, to this understand- 
ing, and see their immortal interests side by side 
with those of time; when they feel that there is but 
a step between them and the full reality, but an un- 
certain period, (and that short at longest and unsatis- 
fying at best,) between them and their eternal sepa- 
ration from every thing the heart attaches to here, 
except what God has approved and set apart for 
heaven,—they will feel the actuating spirit of the 
word, and if they do not ‘become whole,’ will at 
least’ be willing to consider and ‘do many things.” 
But, as the case often stands, they come far short of 
this: they honour the subject only with casual no- 
tices; they want, indeed, the sensibility and pur- 
pose about it of the judge (have they more merit 
than he?) who said within himself, ‘Though I fear 
not God, nor regard man; yet, because this widow 
troubleth me, I will avenge her; I will do what is 
right in her case, that I may be rid of her importu- 
nity.” Awakened sinners sometimes attempt to 
procure relief to a troubled conscience on this prin- 


1 John v. 4. 2 Mark vi. 20. 3 Luke xviii. 4, 5. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 89 


ciple; they do some proper things as with impa- 
tience to have them out of mind; but those now 
under consideration are not awakened; they are not 
troubled with their sins, and of consequence do lit- 
tle or nothing to procure peace by good. works. 
They have good works to be sure, but, as we have 
remarked, their works point not to God, but to their 
eredit and influence in the world, to the endowment 
and happiness of relatives and friends; and not to a 
preparation of themselves and others for heaven, by 
the control and subversion of sin in the heart. 
_ All belief concerning matters of importance, espe- 
O4 Leially: if matters necessarily affecting us, or affording 
“the means of securing any desirable object, will 
always have much influence on a sound mind; and 
this is not more true with respect to any thing than 
the truths of religion. These truths are also aided in 
the impression which they are adapted to make, by 
the conscience of man, and by the necessity of his 
nature for the instruction and relief which they fur- 
nish. Any such credit of them, as men usually give 
to.facts and statements in the history of very distant. 
times and countries, would cause them to take an 
important place in their thoughts; for it is not ne- 
cessary that they should love the truth, in order to © 


feel it, any more than it is necessary that they 
8* | 


” 


ee: 
Fale « 


ial ’ 
9 


0 ey. 2 


should love the sun, in order to. be apprized of its 


heat. Our love of an object will, indeed, increase 
the influence of our faith in it, by disposing us to 
entertain it in our minds, and by sweetly confirm- 
ing our experience of it; but there are some objects 


so immense and glorious that, when we really credit 


_ their existence, though we should not be well disposed 


towards them, they will take hold of us in so many 
ways that we shall find it difficult to escape from 
them; and the very effort to do so, may make us 
more sensible of our trouble, as he would be, who 


should shut his eyes to rid himself of a pain, or run 


to get out of the light of day. It is, therefore, eyi- 


dent that such persons, as we have described, do not 
credit the stupendous truths of the gospel. They | 
only think they do. They are not indeed infidels 
on the ground of reflection and evidence, and per- 
haps, if they should attempt to be, it would result 
in convincing them that they are so from the want 
of it. But it is one thing to have infidelity in the 
heart, guarding as ‘a strong man armed’ against the 
entrance of truth, and another thing to have admit- 
ted it there, with such understanding as that we can 
give a reason of it. They have clearly not done 
this: still they are not alive to the great and affect- 
ing truths of religion; and their conduct, contrasted 


with that of those who are, shows that they have — 


come to doubt them by an easier way than that of 
investigation. 

We can have no better me of this, than their 
habitual inattention to the record which God has 


given of his will. This record is as the letting 


7 
7 ot Be? 
a &., 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 91 


down of heaven to earth, as the breaking out of a 


sun upon our darkness. Itis the very heart of love, 
the mind of God, conveyed to us as with his own 
voice in Jesus Christ. It has been the food and joy 
of his people in every age. Of this we havea strik- 


ing illustration in the eager desire manifested forthe _ 


Scriptures at an early period of the reformation in 
England. “ Entire copies of the Bible, when they 
could only be multiplied by means of amanuenses, 
were too costly to be within the reach of very many 
readers; but those who could not procure the ‘ vo- 
lume of the Book,’ would give a load of hay for a 
few favourite chapters, and many such scraps were 


-consumed upon the persons of the martyrs at the 


stake. They would hide the forbidden treasure 
under the floors of their houses, and put their lives 
in peril, rather than forego the book they desired; 


they would sit up all night, their doors being shut 


for fear of surprise, reading or hearing others read 
the word of God; they would bury themselves in 
the woods, and there conyerse with it in solitude; 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


- they would tend their herds in the fields, and still 
“steal an hour for drinking in the good tidings of 

rr eer joy:—thus was the angel come down to trou- 
ble the water, and there was only wanted some pro- 
vidential crisis to put the nation into it, that it might 
‘be made whole.’ This desire is not confined to 
times of persecution. It is the outstanding distinc- 
tion of all the saints who have their record in the 
Bible, and the mark of all faithful people. They 
delight in the Scriptures ‘after the inner man,’ 


fore hate every false way.’ And if they who pro- 
fess to credit them, and yet give them only casual 
thoughts, and, with perhaps the exception of the 
lessons appointed for Sunday, read them less than 
other books, and, when reading them, find no hfe, 
nor sweetness, nor persuasion in them; if they who 
take it for granted that they know them, and there- 
fore do not seek to have an understanding in them, 
would search into them, as into depths that con- 
ceal the richest treasures, they would soon find ‘a 
light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, 
shining round about them,’ and hear ‘a voice speak- 
ing unto them,’ (which now they do not so much as 


| Blunt’s Sketch of the Reformation in England. 21 Pet. i. 19. 


(ih. lmimaale a at % 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


Be fancy they hear,) and saying, ‘ This is the way, walk 
ye in it;?! ‘Walk while ye have the light, lest dark- 
ness come upon you.” They would indeed, feel yg 
that ‘the water was troubled’ as with life from 
above, and their drinking of it would be as the put- 
ting on of immortality. The Scriptures have an 
evidence in them which is not seen by glances; 
they have a fire in them which must be mused upon, a 
before it will begin to burn; like the heavens, they 
have lights and wonders in them which are not eS 
by common gazers, and though they may recely: 
them from the report of others to whom sey ee h 


fn 
6. 


1a ive e 


no means of communication. 

Casual thinkers on religious subjects know less 
of the Scriptures than they suppose. There may 
be nothing in them which they have not heard or 
read, and yet scarcely any thing which they have 
considered. Nothing important, nothing that im- 
ports an increase of understanding, was ever ac- 
quired in this way. So much wisdom on this 
subject is taken for granted, that, like the knowledge 
of ourselves, it is likely to be most defective when 
it is deemed most complete. But faith and know- 
ledge go ‘hand in hand,’ and when one is indistinct, 


'Jsa, xxx. 21. 2John xii. 35. 


4 + 
»* 
av 


ess a “tie cine. 
bat cand. \ Wonk ie are content 1 guesses in 


~ place of knowledge, our faith ae is but a 


_ peradventure ; it is not the stay of the mind, but a 


. ro Kon wing, which, while it indicates that we were 
ned for noble flights, proves that we are disabled 

> them * ‘If it give a look towards God and duty, 
™ it is is as the look of ‘eyes which see not,’ while the 
se ret current of feeling and influence sets all the 
ther | ay. This must be so, unless we have a faith 
; ric h prompts us to serve God, because we know 
fare or to seek him, because we know him not. 
Thus faith always runs either in or after knowledge, 
and knowledge turns to a happy experience first, fi 
i and then to assurance and complete blessedness. 
Hence to know God is to enjoy him by way of 
experience, as well as ‘ to have eternal life’! by way 

of reward. But to know him is first ‘to know 
Jesus Christ whom he hath sent;’ for ‘no man 
knoweth who the Father is but the Son, and he 

to whom the Son will reveal him”? He has 
spoken and acted out his will in our nature; he 

is the ‘way, the truth, and the life, and to as 
many as receive him, he gives power to become 

the en ? To know him, then, is to know 
God, and know him, too, in a way that is as obliging 

as it is ee su and should be as eratehy as 


1 John xxii. 3, Comp. Reainsiives: 2 Luke x. 22. 


tion which we are to study, but ifs simple truth, 
the life coming to us all animated as with fe 
sympathies,—nothing but an experience which 


are to make our own, and that, the Cee He, "1 
the Father’s Well-beloved y—blessed in him in all but 
what he endured for our sakes,—in us blessed wi th 
all the sweetening his love can give it, and endi 

‘all the fulness of God!’ It is this a xe) 


God which natural men have not; an 


aggravation of the guilt of their unbeli ef a 
ness, that it is a knowledge which is oe — 
them warm as with the kindliest affection for them, “a 
and commended to them as a fried experience of 
their necessities. Were there nothing tender and 
lively i in it, it would not be so strange, though strange 

it were, that they should be unbelieving. But the 
truth to be believed is as well adapted, as it is worthy, 

to affect their hearts; and if they give it only a loose 
and unstudied entertainment, a forced and outward 
obedience, it is the best possible proof that they do 

as little know as believe it, They ma: fo NOs u@ 


Bas iat 
may n 


suspicion that they are ignorant of God. 
have grown up with some vague impressions of his 
being and attributes, which they dignity with the 


name of knowledge, but, though the real ‘sons of 


P 


96. » POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


se Blithey « are the sons of Belial, who — not 
the “Lo d.!. They walk in the Mgt ‘of their 
Bobet Ming alienated from the Tife sof God 
wei recat ag bpm oe is in ee To ai 


_, This is the a cause of their an. ceil hardi- 
"ness in transgression ; ; and they must feel after him 


by knowledge, before they can reasonably expect to 
find him by faith, They must become ignorant 
by a persuasion that they are SO, before they can 
4% become wise by an understanding of what wisdom 


is. They must search. the Scriptures if in. Weg 


— es . 


they think they have eternal life, and thro 
come first to the ‘ break of day.’ “iV 
After taking a view of the ‘dark ages’ in os 


men were corrupted by ignorance, and content 


* wi h mere. elinmpecyget knowledge, “ what,’’ says 
, ‘Dr. Good, “is the upshot of the whole ?—the moral 
that the survey inculcates? Distinctly this ; a mo- 


€ 


ral of the utmost moment, and imprinted on every 
step we have trodden—that ignorance is ever asso- 


siated with wretchedness and vice, and knowledge 
with virtue and happiness.’”? This. moral is as 
clearly illustrated in the life of individuals as in 


? 
K 11 Sam. i. 12. - 2 Eph. iv. 18. 


“-— 


‘POPULAR INFIDELITY. ~*~ BT 


the history of nations—in the experience of a Single “ 
Christian. as in that of the church of Christ. Psa 
truth, as imbodied and shadowed forth in the Scrip- *' 
tures and ‘in, the lives of Christians, i is the‘ salt of 

es light of oon world;? and, where it 

and heedediiebrruptiogdingd darkness 

must prev ail. The amount of its influence must 

also depend upon the degree of attention that is 


_ given to it Cold and incurious thoughts will not 
answer the purpose. There is a ‘secret of the Lord’ 
in his word which does not come out of it unsought, 
like a flash of lightning or a dash of rain from the 
cloud. It is disclosed to waiting and attentive eyes, 

‘not suddenly and fully, but by a way of gradual dif- 
) on which makes it more a part of ourselves, or 


rather ourselves indeed, than our acquirement—we 
b ing made thereby ¢ partakers-of a divine nature.’ 
Sila does not intend that we shall have the best 
things, if we will not ‘search Siligently until we fi 


them.’ We are not to pass from poverty to ric 
from ignorance to knowledge, from a state of sin'to 
a state of faith and holiness, in a moment, and with- 
out an effort. And were we as practical anid wise 
with respect to divine as other things, we should 


not look for this latter change without great effort, 
nor should we be deterred by that necessity from 


applying our mind to it, unless indeed the object 
9 i 


is POPULAR INFIDELITY. _ a. 
were deemed undeservable in comparison with 
others. So that it is not the requisite effort that 
deters us from the pursuit of divine knowledge, but 
our low appreciation of it—our utter unbelief in 
regard to the great interest we have init. Were 
there no want of faith in this latter sense, we should 
soon know that, as ‘the kingdom of heaven suf- 
fereth violence,’ so do ‘the violent take it by force.”! 
We should not wonder that we are required to do s6 
much, but that so much may be gained by the little 
that we can do. We should not so easily satisfy 
ourselves with the acting of religion on holy days, 
and in an outward compliance with its. forms and 
customs. We should not find it so difficult to call 
off our thoughts from the world, and to turn them to 
heaven with designs and desires carrying us there. 
Our first wonder would be that there is a heaven 
for us,—our greater wonder, that it should be pro- 
cured at an expense so great that we cannot tell 
which is greatest, the love which bore it, or the 
guilt which made it necessary. Our strongest de- 
sire to be there would be that we may ‘be for ever 
with the Lord,’ who is such, and could love us so, 
that our loving him is not so much his will, as our 
privilege, and not so much his glory, as we would 
make it ours. Faith indeed would set every thing 
1 Matt. xi. 12. | 


a POPULAR INFIDELITY. 99" 
en 2 A ee 


and make religion, not our trouble and hinderance, 
but our help and delight—the work and end for 
which we came into the world. It would not suffer 
us to ‘halt between two opinions,’ or to be without 
any opinion at all; to be satisfied with occasional 
compunctions and partial reformations; to be scared 
from one indulgence by fear, and tempted from 
another by interest, and allied to others by inclina- 
tion; to talk devotion and humility, and yet, without 
discomposure, to retain pride and to practise self- 
interest. It isa modest grace, which, while it con- 
fides in the promises of God, blushes with the shame, 
and labours with the distrust, of a wicked and deceit- 
ful heart. It is satisfied only with the complete 
likeness of its object. 

‘How different then is the work of faith from the 
conduct of those whose character has been under 
review! Giving to the truths and duties of religion 
but an outside and casual respect, they live in an in- 
curious, ignorant, and unrelenting condition. They 
are not sufficiently conversant with them to imbibe 
any influence from them, nor sufficiently thoughtful 
of them to have any certain persuasion of their 


% 


obligation. Persons of this description have various. 


shades of character. In some infidelity is more 
speculative ; in others there seems to be little 


100 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


speculation about it, and it only shows itself in the 
pernicious fruits of their lives and manners; but 
we ‘know them all by their fruits.?, They are found 
everywhere in the ranks of those who speak favour- 
ably of Christianity, who attend places of worship, 
and who alike feel themselves insulted and scan- 
dalized when they are charged with infidelity; yet 
nothing is more just. We need not, and they need 
not, be mistaken. There is no profit in delusion. 
There is no charity in concealing the truth. Infi- 
delity runs in their speculations, oozes up in their 
worldly musings, and comes fully out in their drift 
and habits. The religion of the best of them 
amounts only to a state of indifference and luke- 
varmness; but the worst have too much moderation 
ra taste in sinning to ‘ glory in their shame,’ or to 
‘ suffer the sickness of their drunkenness, and yet call 
it pleasure:’ they are not so far gone in iniquity; but 
with respect to the infidelity of all, we may say what 
was said, by one! of their own number, of the popes 
of Rome: “No man looks for holiness in the bishops - 
of Rome; those are the best popes who are not 
extremely wicked.’? They all have a certain faith, 
and the chief mischief of their state is, that they 
seem to think that if they were infidels, they should 


1 Papirius Massonius,—See Jeremy Taylor’s Sermon on Growth 
in Grace. 


“ 
me 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 101 
have no faith at all. This is a great mistake. They 
would then, as now, believe and not tremble, have 
convictions, and presumptions, and hopes (all dis- 
turbers only) of acquaintance and happiness with 
God, while wrapt in their own darkness, and loving 
that darkness well. They must look elsewhere, if 
they would find a difference between themselves and 
professed infidels, They are on the same track 
with them here, and the only difference is, that some 
have the start of others. 

This conclusion will be confirmed by a more par- 
- ticular view of their conduct. If we analyze their 
hope, it will be found like their worship, a casualty, 
an incident like our thousand wishes, that come and 
go we cannot tell why or whither. Such wishes ate 
the drones that feed on our stores, but add nothing ee 


to them. They return empty from all their excur- : 
sions; and so the hope of many not only does not 
work any good, but hinders them from working any, 
by imposing on them the belief that it does. It 
not only lives at their expense, but it reconciles 
them to remain out of true possession, by keeping 
in their view the deceitful colours of the prospect. 
While they recede from it by the visible bias and 
action of their spirits, its false lights beguile them 
to think they are drawing near to it. Its reasoning 


is: I shall be happy hereafter in him towards whom 
g* 


¥ it ee we | he 
rt : a, 
iS -, 
- wea As 
eS ee 


102. POPULAR INFIDELITY. © 


“ 


I live in habitual disaffection now. I shall covet 


then that glorious Presence which now I do not so’. 


wH 


much as seek, and cannot so much as enjoy. I can 
be happy in him whom I do not love, and love 
whom I do not know. I depend upon his favour, 
but my way of inviting and securing it is to live 
as without him; to keep myself a stranger to him 
while he gives me good things to enjoy, and to fly 
to him at last, when nothing else is left to lean ‘upon. 
I would remain as I am, but, as I cannot, I am 
willing, when I must go, to be taken to the bliss 
of heaven, and, though ¢hat be not bliss to me 
now, I can trust to his mercy to make it so then. 
In this distant region where his communications 
are obscure and restrained, I see that his’ goodness 
abounds, and why should I doubt, when the time for 
full rewards and disclosures shall come, that it will 
much more abound; that it will at least then meet the 
new and peculiar exigencies of creatures for whom 
now he provides with a father’s care, not discrimi- 
nating between the evil and the good, but embracing 
them all as children, erring children, yet children still? 

Such is their case. They are believers and doers 
of ‘many things.’ Their condition differs little from 
the common state of the unconverted, and that dif- 
ference, with respect to great numbers, is to their 
advantage. We are, then, concerned to understand 


* POPULAR INFIDELITY. “103 


= 


their faith, and to fix a definite character upon it. 
_* This we may be aided to do by considering the 
correspondence between their faith and practice in 
worldly business. We see nothing left to chance 
here, and nothing done, without a designing and 
adapting of means to ends. They consider the ne- 
cessities of the country, and the places where their 
business will be most likely to succeed. They watch ~ 
the changes in the market, the signs of the times, the 
agitations and revolutions of governments, the sue- 
cess or failure of those around them, prying into the 
causes of each, and taking every warning and ad- 
vantage from them, in the management of their own 
affairs. In this way they acquire a business-faith, 
which is based upon reasonable evidence—a busi- 
ness-caution, which shows their profiting by the 
skill, the rashness, or miscarriage of others—and a 
business-discernment, which qualifies them to detect 
good and evil in their signs. And they act out 
these acquirements ; they measure their steps, and 
consider the effect of each on the event of their 
affairs; they see quickly where to apply their force, 
and their zeal, their activity, -quickens with every 
new proof that it will accomplish its design. If they 
meditate changes in their residence, their employ- 
ment, or their style of living, they study into the 
present and future consequences, and endeavour to 


104 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


adapt their tastes and habits to them; if they are to 
come into the presence of wise men or princes, they 
are intent to know how they shall speak, and carry 
themselves suitably to their character and station, 
not seeming to be unapprized of their own inferior 
ity, nor affronting the dignity which they wish to 


propitiate; if a great end is to be gained by extra _ 


ordinary effort, or the most difficult adventures are 
believed likely to lead on to fortune or other dis- 
tinction, they run the greatest hazards, endure the 
greatest hardships, traverse continents, cross oceans, 
(asking perhaps the prayers of the church, and so 
far well doing, yet asking it for a safe conduct in 
securing temporal advantages, when they seldom 
think, and might scorn perhaps, to ask the same 
assistance to secure eternal,) and do all things with 
a care and sagacity well worthy of rational beings: 
but how changed, how adverse to this, is the opera- 
tion of their faith in spiritual concerns! Professing 
to admit their claim upon their first attention, and 
their unequalled value to themselves, yet putting 
them off with occasional thoughts, suffering the re- 
membrance of them to be merged in the stream of 
ether imaginations, or perhaps bidding them begone, 
in impatience of their restraints ; expecting, they 
know not how soon, to enter into the bright pre- 
sence of God, angels, and just spirits, and to have their 


ae patel. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 105 


heaven in a holy communion with them, yet omit- 
ting every preparation for it, and not even inquiring 
how they shall deport themselves before the Majesty 
on high, or conform to the services and usages of his 
court; believing that after death the greatest possi- 
ble change will take place in their residence, their 
enjoyments, their pursuits, yet not caring to temper 
and mould themselves to it, but rushing upon that 
which is of the greatest interest to them, as if they 
had no part in it, or shutting their eyes to the event, 
when its shadows come over them and its steady 
approach cannot be doubted: never, indeed, com- 
puting their advances, as well pleased to be receding 
from, as approaching to, their object; never heeding 
the port or surprisal of the multitude, but walking 
with composure after them, though their lights are 
going out in despair by the way; never acquiring 
any faith, any caution, any discernment in spiritual 
things; in nothing manifesting the thought, the 
engagedness, the resolution with which they pursue - 
the world, but all the capabilities of spiritual life 
sinking and dying within them (as before the time) 
without so much as the appearance of a death-strug- 
gle or a death-sigh for better things! 

If a man should conduct. thus in his temporal 
affairs, all would say he had no faith in the success 
of his exertions, or did not value the objects to be 


. 
+... %. 
106 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


gained by them. But should he claim to believe 

that all worldly advantages were within his reach, 

and to set the highest value upon them, and yet 
conduct in this manner, we should either set him 

down for a blockhead, a deranged person, or one 

who had added to the want of such faith the hypo- “et 
erisy of professing to have it. And should he set * 
up in some particular business, and give only casua, 
thoughts to it, never seeming to make it the obje 4 
of pursuit, or to be concerned whether he pros oer ie 

in it or no, and yet claim credit from others on the % 
ground of such business so attended to, he would 

not only be distrusted, but, if he persevered in this 

_ course, denounced as desiring to cpnceal his evil con- 
dition, and to contract debts whieh he had not the 

means or expectation of discharging, With what 

grace, then, does he ask us to give him credit for 

faith in the gospel, who leaves his whole concern 

in it ‘at loose ends,’ and is content to float upon 

the stream that is bearing him from God, with a 

force that increases with the distance, and will soon. 

make his return impossible? Why should he not We 
be considered and treated as an infidel? Has tie Ke 
kind of faith in these things? So has the infidel, but. iri? 
nobody can tell what it is, or what it does, in either eas 
case,—unless, indeed, it deters them both, like the 

faith of failing tradesmen, from looking into their 


te 
nt 


et: A 


ae 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 107 


affairs, lest they should have a fuller view of their 
ruin. It is not a faith which breeds caution and 
solicitude, but that improvidence which Shuts its 
eyes and concludes, if conclude it ever does, to take 
things as they come. Infidelity in both is, as ever, 
a lazy, dreamy vice; in quiet the most stupid, in 
rage the most terrible of creatures, but, what is 


_ remarkable, blind alike in its rage and mildness. 
- But: we see nothing in them of the grace of faith, 


"that birth of intelligence, which, fixing its far-reach- 
“ing eye on things not discernible by sense, admits 
now, of a repose that is sweet and lively, and now, 
of an excitement that is great and burning, yet in 
order but as ‘Teason, and in noise but as light in 
motion. If we judge of them by their spirit, we 
see no difference ; if by their works, ‘we sce both 
breaking the same ground, and looking for the same 
increase. Both ‘sow to the flesh, and of the flesh 
reap corruption’ daily and visibly. Both are self- 


confident, self-complacent, indisposed to devotion, 
be: and ‘trusting in themselves that they are righteous.’ 
<n Both are disposed to carry this impression as far 


te te they can, and when they make it sueceed with 


ies 


he 


én, to take that for an argument that it will 
pass for a reality with God. Both are the willing 
dupes of ‘an evil heart of unbelief,’ and, in spiritual 
matters, ‘ grope as if they had no eyes.’ Both have 


108 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


a price all price beyond, put into their hands to get 
wisdom—the one openly discrediting its value, and 
thinking himself wise and good enough without it— 
the other putting upon: it all manner of professed 
respect, and acknowledging his folly and destitution 
without it, yet burying it in the earth as a talent 
which he cares not to employ; and, if neither the 
priest nor the Levite, but ‘a certain Samaritan’ was 
‘neighbour to him that fell among thieves,’ which 
of these is the believer? Which treats his Lord 
with most reverence—he that discredits the gift and 
his need of it, or he that professes to credit both and 
does not act conformably to either? he who rejects 
the offer which he thinks made to him without 
authority, or he who affects to receive it as of the 
authority which it claims, and yet never attempts to 
possess himself of the good it proposes? Which 
has the most fear of God—he that sins largely as 
doubting his word, or he that deliberately sins 
enough as believing it to incur his just displeasure 
forever? he that sees God as angry with the wicked 
every day, and is every day sinning, or he that sees 
him only as indifferent to human actions, and con- 
tinues. to do what he will? Which should we think 
the better man—he who receives our bounties and 
favours as thinking they came from us, yet never 
returns any thanks or discharges any obligation 


aa ie 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 109 


they lay on him, or he that receives them, as he 
does the showers of heaven, by the chance or right 
of his condition, and as little thinks of his duty to 
us as of the clouds that, without mind, drop down 
the rain? he that pays us an- external respect and 
deference because he thinks it shall profit him, or 
he that passes us by as though we were not, and is. 
as regardless of his own interests as of our rights? 
What, indeed, shall we -think of the faith of those 
who give to the commands of God but an incidental 
and unstudied obedience? who believe too much, 
or rather cannot. doubt enough to enable them to 
discard him from their thoughts altogether, and yet 
are content with thoughts which have no motive to 
his glory, and do as little restrain and temper them 
as honour him? who take credit to themselves for 
acknowledging obligations to-which their whole life 
is as an act of untiring resistance? who entertain 
him in their loneliness, not as a friend from whom 
they have nothing to conceal, with confidence and 
alection, but as a stranger of doubtful appearance, _ 
with coldness, with suspicion, and dread? What, 
indeed, shall we think of those who'can contemplate 
(believingly, as they say) the most affecting and 
worthy objects ‘without any thoughts arising in 
their hearts?’ who can move on, already in the 
10 


110 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


‘shadow of death,’ with eyes open on eternity, _ 
while the question of their love to God hangs in £ 
doubt, and this, though they cannot tell which is 
the most wonderful, the greatness of his love to 
them, or the happy and glorious effects and issues 
of their loving him? who have it in their faith, 
that he is ‘a consuming fire’ to the wicked, and 
yet, without any invitation er permission to treat 
with him in their own persons, venture before him 
with a plea of personal merit, with a price in their 
hand, the hire of service, which is to buy them 
pardon. and eternal life,—thus making his wisdom 
foolishness, and dispensing with the atonement and 
offices of his Son?—and this, too, when it is another 
part of their faith to depend solely on him; to 
believe that many who’‘ in that day ery Lord, Lord, 
have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy 
name done many wonderful works?’ shall, as at the 
aevery entrance of heaven, find destruction bursting 
upon them. from the’ words, ‘I never knew you: 
depart from me.’ You have slighted my_ blood, 
my grace, my promises,:my infinite compassions, 
and now come with the offering of your merits in 
their plaee. I have wrought out for you a perfect 
righteousness, and, not accepting it, you have gone 
about to. establish a righteousness of your ee I 


have borne the punishment of your sins, but you 


e* 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 14t 


have not borne my cross, and you can have no part 


“in my joy and glory. 


All the analogies of human conduct lead us to infer, 
and we should not be surprised to find, that deception 
is sometimes practised in religion. If men can gain 
any advantage by it, it is not reasonable to suppose 
that they will abstain from it in this any more than 
in’ other cases. If they will do penance, cut and 
deform their bodies, perform pilgrimages, persecute 
and put to death ‘the saints of the Most High’ and 
think they do him acceptable services, why should 
it be doubted that they may do much to work out 
a righteousness of their own, make ‘long prayers’ 
and a great show of humility and zeal, by which the 
same end is to he effected with less expense and less 


pain to nature, when they have not a particle of the 


spirit of the Master they affect to serve? All, no - 


doubt, do something in this way; but the wonder is 


that they do no more; though doing less or more 


would leave them alike faithless. The omission is 
only to be accounted for on the ground of their 
disrelish to spiritual virtues, and of the little profit 
they derive from the credit of them. Still, a self- 
righteous, and therefore a faithless spirit, actuates 
the religion of many. Caring much for the re- 
putation, and something for the reality, of piety, 
without perhaps intending deception they come by 


% 
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¥12 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


degrees to claim stoutly the excellence which others, 
in their charity, presume them to have. No one is 
disposed to call in question their Christian preten- 
sions; and being without that brokenness of heart 
and faith in Christ which cause them to fly from them- 
selves for support and direction, they walk in the 
sight of their own eyes, and take the outside for the 
inward life of religion. This they can “maintain 
without any modification of their natural desires ; 
and, as it procures for them .some: peace of con- 
science, and much confidence and credit with others, 
no wonder if they trust it, value it, and think it 
acceptable to God, to whose perfections they are as 


blind, as to the miseries and plagues of an unsancti- 
fied heart. . | 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 113 


CHAPTER V. 


e 


Error in estimating our own qualities a cause of our misconceiving 
the divine perfections—Obstacles to correct views of ourselves— 
Readiness with which men confess the evil of their hearts—Pro- 
cess by which men are reconciled to evil ways—Causes which 
perpetuate this delusion—Their unobserved operationTendency 
ef worldly companions and amusements to foster infidelity —This 
danger inferred from our mental constitution—Presumption of 
those who disregard it—Delicacy of religious. sentiment—Its easy 
decay——Peril of virtue and faith where the influence of religion 
is discouraged—Great changes in moral character occurring 
without our notice—Blindness to the infidelity consequent upon 
them—Difficulty of breaking from worldly society—Things im- 
plied in our attachment to it—The prospect presented to the 
mind —. Worldliness — Practical atheism— Peculiar dangers of 

. youth— Whether religion is an easy practice—What is essential 
to make it so—Its nature—Its requisitions agreeable to the truest 
philosophy. 


We have hitherto considered the influence of the 
depravity of our nature on our judgment and _prac- 
tice, with reference chiefly to the duties which we owe 
to God. This, too, is the principal object of every 
part of the present discussion. But whatever leads 
to such errors, cither of opinion or practice, as we 
have contemplated, must evidently be the cause of 
great errors in our estimate of our own character. 
“Indeed errors in the faith and practice of religion 
10* 


114 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


always presuppose errors in our judgment of our- 
selves, if they do not proceed from them. We must 
rightly understand our own character, or we never 
can rightly understand the character of God and the 
wisdom and fitness of his proceedings with us. 
That, which is most apt to betray us into self-delu- 
sion, will be a chief cause of error in the concerns 
of religion. It is therefore pertinent to our object 
to consider the influence of our depravity on our 
views of ourselves. The mistakes of this- descrip- 
tion, which we may be able to detect, will assist us 
to determine what confidence we should have in the 
purity and adequacy of our conceptions of the moral 
perfections of God. The question for our decision 
will be whether, if erring and partial in our views 
of our own moral qualities, we shall be likely to be 
correct and impartial in our estimate of the require- 
ments of the divine law? 

A general obstacle to correct views of ourselves, 
as well as of God, is our self-ignorance; and this is 
ignorance which we are naturally too indolent. to 
discover, and too self-complacent to suspect, before 
some glaring evidence of it has been forced upon the 
mind. Our intimacy with the subject seems to us to 
suppose knowledge,—and inquiry and solicitude are 
therefore not entertained; and what is most easy and 


necessary to be learned remains unknown. For this 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 115 


reason, our knowledge of subjects rarely presented 
to the mind, and requiring much investigation to be 
understood, is often more perfect than our know- 
ledge of those with which we are more familiar, 
and which may be more easily investigated; and 
as this ignorance is shameless, because common, 
and grateful, because it keeps us in favour with our- 
selves, it is no wonder if we assume the credit, while 
we are destitute of the life and proper operation, of 
knowledge: He, whose religion is something better 
than profaneness, will not find it difficult to be- 
lieve that he is both good and knowing indeed, 
if they, whose hearts and heads he studies in the 
inferences of their conduct, can have countenance 
for these qualities ; and this too, when they show in 
nothing that they have them not so much as in the 
extravagance of their pretending to them —adding 
to their destitution of the qualities so great dulness 
in the perception of them, that they need but to 
know them to be convinced that they have them 
not. . 

There is one thing with which we may always be 
familiar, which may be seen in every individual 
about us as in a glass, which shares in all our cares 
and affections and runs in every thing we do; and, 
though there be nothing more important for us to 
know well, there is yet nothing of which we gene- 


img 


116 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


rally know so little. ( It is Said) iu and present 
An every thing,—that strangely anxious, yet more 
' strangely improvident presence which works such 
wonders on us, and such suspicions in us, which in 
others flatters us to discern our weakness, and in 
ourselves flatters us to conceal it; in them praises 
us barely to hide the envy which dreads our dis- 
covery, and in ourselves detects the secret, yet 
glories in the praise; in them makes our opinion 
the test of what is fit and noble, while it affects to 
be indifferent to all opinions but its own, and both 
in them and us smiling at the parts which others act, 
but acting the same with scarcely any consciousness 
of its own doings—itself yet the most engaged and 
observing of creatures! + aN 

| Men, whose consciences and understandings are 
not wholly perverted, feel and will confess the evil 
of their hearts; but charge it upon them as it 
operated in a particular case, and they will show 
by apologies that they do not believe it. No 
one is disposed to withhold the confession of our 
general depravity, and many make it rather with an 
air of triumph than of humiliation; as if there were 
magnanimity in it, of were no want of virtue where 
there is no unusual absence of it; but attempt to 
lift the veil which covers their corruptions, and they 
start back as if an enemy had approached them 


~ 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. iL7 


without a warning. They will not come to the 
investigation ; and it seems fair to judge that they 
are conscious of deeds which would be -reproved. 
Their conduct, in this particular, also implies a 
readiness to hide themselves from their own view, 
and a capacity to be satisfied with. iniquity that is 
concealed from the view of others—a state, it should 
be noted, totally inconsistent with just views of sin 
or holiness. They do not fear the invisible Searcher 
of hearts, and the confidence of their associates gives 
them the confidence of virtue. They walk erect in 
all the expressiveness of conscious worth, when, if 
their motives and acts were fully known, they would 
fly in shame from the presence of those who praise 
and trust them. 

The process, by which we become reconciled to evil 
ways, is gradual and often imperceptible. Actions 
that are merely doubtful as to their morality, first gain 
approbation, and the little beginnings of vice are tole- 
rated without alarm. The mind, naturally tender 
and timorous, is not easily tempted to commit.acts of 
distinguished iniquity. Its moral dread of vice is 
not overcome by such bold attacks; but it is done by 
the undermining influence of humbler departures 
from virtue. These steal their way into our very 
constitution before we are apprized of our danger, 


and without a rattle to remind us of their venomous 


ie POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

nature. They are the young vices which we take 
to our bosoms; the enemy’s spies which we enter- 
tain not only with our. secrets, but with our best 
provisions; ‘the foolish virgins’ to whom we ‘are 
giving the ‘oil in our lamps,’ without any fear that 
it will ever fail us. We think we have light enough 
and to spare. Our small defects are hid in the shade 
of our greater virtues, and if by the light of truth 
and conscience they are ever made to appear, like 
spots upon a planet, they are surrounded with splen- 
dour, and, what is satisfactory, are not “visible to 
mortal eyes. Thus, through the deceitfulness of 
sin, we are first drawn into its power, and cheated 
into the belief that all-is well because no evils are 
experienced, we become confident of virtue in the 
loss of sensibility to guilt, and in the successes of un- 
discovered erime, are reconciled to ourselves by the 
continued favour and countenance of the good. 

But the process, by which we are beguiled from 
virtue, and deluded into a sinful complacency with 
our own character, is not more subtle or unobserved 
than the operation of the causes which tend to per- 
petuate the delusion. The best of men are liable to 
be influenced in their opinions of themselves by the 
depravity of the heart: Running in the thoughts 
and affecting the understanding of men, it causes not 
only many individual errors, but a lax and danger- 


WK xe 
ar 


Ju 
ba 


* 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 119 


ous ‘public opinion,’ which is apt to be referred to, 
as authority for what is right and proper. . We have 
stated, and it may be repeated, that we are disposed 
to think little of imperfections and sins which are 
supposed to be common to man; and it is not less 
true that any evil practice, which public opinion 
sanctions, will lose the appearance of evil as it 
respectably prevails. Who, indeed, is likely to 
feel remorse or shame for what the world approves? 
Guilt finds countenance for itself in guilt; and he 
that lacks beauty or virtue will not wish to conceal 
himself where neither is esteemed. In this practical 
reference of our conduct to the judgment of the 
world, the ‘blind lead the blind,’ and sustain each 
other in the way of ruin. Many united will. be 
confident in a bad cause, which no one alone would 
have courage to defend. Each one finds encourage- 
ment for himself in the example of others, and so 
each is supported, and in his turn supports another. 
Few are at all apprized to what extent their opi- 
nions are influenced and moulded by the practice of 
their associates. To one of two societies we must 
belong, the servants of God, or the. servants of 
satan; the votaries of time, or the votaries of eternity: 
they are each of them striving for the mastery, and 
saying, “Come with us.”? We may now be tender 


and respectful to the claims of religion, but we have 
* 
ge, 
bs 


- « 


120 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


other sentiments, stronger than these, to which we 
shall be tempted to yield, if we enter ourselves with 
those who are devoted to the amusements and inte- 
rests of time. ‘There is a spice of atheism, a dash 
of immodesty towards religion in all they do and 
say, which is the more dangerous, because it is so- 
mild and diffused a thing that it requires more than 
ordinary watchfulness to detect it, and more than 
ordinary courage to give it its true character.’ With 
them life and death, hope and disappointment are 
spoken of without advertence to. God, and with 
regard only to physical causes and effects. The 
motives and the works of piety are referred to prin- 
ciples of selfishness and hopes of gain, such as per- 
vade their own minds in the business of the world. 
If we hear and consider with attention, we shall 
find the sentiment breaking out like a restrained fire 
at every opening, that all men have the same'end, 
and the only difference is, that of many lawful ways 
to it, some take one, and some, another. The most 
serious and awful scenes of human existence are 
commented on as incidents in a world of chance. 
The sensibility and thoughtfulness, which they 
awaken in the less confirmed of their number, are 
contemplated, and perhaps adverted to, as symp- 
toms of weakness and inexperience, to which it is 
their felicity to be superior. Now, let it be con- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 121 


sidered that our religious sentiment is not naturally 
our strongest; that, like other delicacies of the mind 
and heart, it recoils at first, and then loses its nature 
when used to ungenial associations, and becomes, if 
not the conscious, the real subject of an impure con- 
version; that our strongest tendency is to fix our 
affections on the world, to break from the restraints 
of eternity, to adjust our opinions to the standard of 
our companions, and to make their esteem a great and 
leading object in our speeches, smiles, and fayours— 
and can it be doubted that here is an active and power- 
ful cause of degeneracy and unbelief? Can we doubt 
that the result of this combination will be to create 
in us a necessity for pleasures, and a complacency in 
pursuits and imaginations, hostile alike to religious 
consideration and to correct views of personal cha- 
racter, and certain to perpetuate the delusion, if not 
checked by the intervention of crosses and calami- 
ties which shall bring us back to a ‘right mind,’ 
and to the ‘ abundance that is in our Father’s house 2? 
We remember one (who seemed to run well in reli- 
gion) who, falling among the enemies of his Lord, 
denied him in fear of their displeasure—and another, 
(who heard the preacher ‘gladly, and did many 
things,’) who afterward, (though ‘he knew him to 
be a just man,’) ‘for his oath’s sake,’ (made ina 


glee,) and ‘ for their sakes who sat with him,’ (for he 
1] 


oo 


122 POPULAR INFIDELITY, 


desired their approbation,) ‘commanded his head 
o be brought in a charger, and given to the damsel,’ 
~- who had demanded it as the price of the amusement 
she afforded them. There are slighter, but not dis- 
similar, acts of denial and crime, to which we are 
perpetually tempted i in the society of men devoid of 
religion. Their practice, indeed, is but a denial of 
its claims, but a blow at the destruction of that which 
_they profess to honour as ‘just.2 We place our- 
~. selves where all is against Christianity, and nothing 
in favour and honour of it; where the irreligious 
tendencies of our nature are drawn out and applaud- 
ed; where it requires more than ordjnayy courage 
. or strength to preserve or even express any coh- 
cern for the interests of the soul; where we are , 
* 


a strongly tempted to be silent about religion, to. ac- bis 


Pk ov 
“quiesce in its banishment, to suppress. our conyic- — 


< tions, and to pass on to a guilty and cowardly shame — 
of it, when in the cHosEN presence of those, who, 


maugre their friendship, would spoil us of hope and 


salvation, and think they done us no disservice. 
Think as well as. we may of the society of worldly 
minds, it gives no entertainment to religion, and 

will not tolerate the serious mention of it. The 
life and gayety which prevail there would fly at its 
approach, like birds scattered by the presence of the 
fowler. There is, if not an instinct, a ready appre- 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 123. 


hension, a guilty shrinking from it, which as well 
expresses its infrequency as its unwelcomeness there 
If we suppose that we can covet such society, and suf 
fer our thoughts to follow its lead, and to repose in 
its moods, without the peril of our virtue and of our 
confidence in the truths of religion, we are unac- 
quainted with our nature and the strength of our 
mind. We may continue in it and be conscious of 
no change of opinion, relinquish no article of faith, 
and incur no charge of singular guilt or vainness oie 2 
purpose; but we shall fall from our estate in a more 
general and less observable way; we shall lose our 
susceptibility to spiritual impressions; indistinctness 
of perception, aversion to prayer, and deadness to 
praise will come on, and the strength of the hold 


_ which religious principle has upon us will be weak- 


ened at every point, before we are apprized that we ~ 
have changed in any. The cause of this change, 
of this diffusion of infidelity in the mind, should be 
borne in remembrance. It is the breaking up. and 
merging of the sinner’s convictions of the nature of ‘ 


sin, and of the degree of his own sinfulness, which 
has taken place as the direct effect of habitual con- 
verse with that society, where every thing is plan- 
ned, spoken, and done in disunion from God; where 


it is no crime to exclude religion from the thoughts, 


and where selfishness, pride, and all the spiritual 


124 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


forms of wickedness are treated as innocent, and 
only the vices and crimes, which impair confidence 
and reputation, and put in jeopardy ‘their own 
things,’ are noted and condemned as sins. 

The infidelity, which results from changed views 
of personal guilt and danger, (and our views in this 
respect are always changing for the worse when not 
improving, and; though changing by insensible de- 
grees perhaps, yet greatly changing,) is seldom per- 
ceived by the subject of it, and in this lies its dead- 
liest advantage. It is ‘a wolf in sheep’s clothing,’ 
having indeed all of the dulness, with none of the 
innocence of that useful animal. It is a virus that 
has been infused without a sting, and works without 
pain, consuming the health and obscuring the. sight. 
Its process is as insensible as that of age, disabling 
and bringing us under its power. No speculative 
opinions are changed, no great truth is formally re-' 
nounced; still the change is great; it-is diffused 


through the whole man, and when he contemplates 


it, it awakens no alarm, and is not likely to be seen 
either in its cause or effect. It is nature upon which 
only the changes of experience and age have passed, 
taking something from its susceptibility and power, 
but nothing from its goodness and faith, Such are 
the views which men have of the grown corruption 
of the heart, when it assumes only an even and 


Fie y ? 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 125 


natural shape; and, of course, the infidelity which 
they involve is rarely suspected. They must be 
convinced that their views of sin have been modi- 
fied by their associations, that in the unmixed world- 
liness of their thoughts and affections there is an 
element of darkness, a growth of death, which mars 
and defiles their conceptions of truth, before they 
can understand their true condition or its proper 
remedy. This is the reason why it is so difficult to 
persuade them of their infidelity, and why the truth, 
when presented to their mind, has so little effect. 
They are not sensible of the character of the change 
that has been wrought in their estimation of sin and 
holiness, and retaining still their opinions, something 
as a tree retains its limbs when life is gone from 
them, they esteem themselves as good believers as 
ever. : i » a 
The truth affects them little, because they do not 
see their occasion to be affected by it, and, observe, 
they never will see it, while they continue to view. 
their character as reflected from the conduct of 
others who approve of them as they are, and act as 
they do. Such example has the effect of weakening 
their convictions of sin, of impairing their fear of 
God, and estranging the mind from the evidences 
of his truth. This done, they are left exposed to 


other consequent causes of unbelief: they have esta- 
tie 


126 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


a + 


blished their worldly associations and ‘fi enc ships, 
and consistency requires that they should ‘continue i 
in them; the difficulty of a return to religious con- 
sideration is thus greatly increased; the singularity 
of. such a course and the reproachful surprise it 
might awaken are more strongly apprehended, and 
they have not the courage to do the duty they would. 
This is the best view of their case; and it may be 
very far from comprehending the whole evil and 
difficulty of it. They have perhaps drank in so great 
a measure of worldliness, that they would not ex- 
change it for religion, if they could, would not break 
from the ranks of its neglecters, if there were no 
obstacle in the way, no sacrifice of esteem and no 
reproach to be incurred by it. Like the deranged, or 
the foolish man, they may be struck spell-bound, with 
the splendour of their prison-walls, and obstinately 
refuse to come out, when its doors are opened and 
liberty proclaimed. When this infatuation, this 
pleasure with worldly bonds, is added to the en- 
hanced difficulties and sacrifices which they must 
undergo in breaking from them, reason despairs of 
their recovery. ‘There is, indeed, no hope of it 
from themselves. Every influence is operating, 
every motive is drawing, to help them on in the 
discredit of religion, and to give them repose with- 
out it. True, they have yet some distrust of their 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 127 


safety but they see nothing singular in aibeir condi- 


“tps tion, atitl, as as the numbers-who rank with them swell 


on every side, with hearts light and countenances 
imaging confidence and delight, their fears are | 
allayed. They take courage from observing the 
anconcern of others; they would tremble to face the 
danger alone; to be solitary sinners they could not 
endure; to see all their companions running in the 
ways of righteousness would cause instant dissatis- 
faction and alarm; to be marked and set apart in 
this way, this would make them hate the distinction 
which now they so much covet, bring down their 
high looks, imbitter their pleasures, and run every 
thing, save religion, to dross and littleness. But 
their strength stands in numbers, (strange that they 
should not deem it a-strength drawing to destruc- 
tion,) and their boldness (cutting the air in the rear 
of powerful leaders, no danger near or looked: for) 
like an insect circling a blaze, repelled by the heat, 
but inferring no danger from the light, is daring 
because not seeing, and cheerful because not con- 
sidering—both illustrating and prompting the ex- 
clamation, ‘if the light that is in us be darkness, 
how great is that darkness!’ 

Enough has been said to evince that neither the 
mind nor the heart can be clear in an element from 

1 Matt, vi. 2, 3. 


128 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

which religion is expelled. Next to positive im- 
piety and sensuality, the greatest obstacle to faith is 
that worldliness which is acquired in the chosen 
society of those who are living without God. It 
stupifies the conscience, cools the affections, breeds 
distaste to serious reflection, accustoms the mind to 
the absence of religion, and gives scope and nourish- 
ment only to the corrupt tendencies of our nature. 
It is a world, in which God is practically allowed to 
have no part, which is separated from eternity, 
where all trifles have a dangerous value, and every 
thing is permitted to drift but what may be gathered 
up and turned to the advantage and pleasure of a 
wasting life. And when it is considered what our 
nature is, what our proneness, under the wisest and 
best restraints, to self-indulgence and the neglect of 
spiritual concerns, can it be thought safe for our 
virtue, to say nothing of our faith, to strike for plea- 
sure and notoriety in such an element of atheism as 
this ? to inure the heart to a fascination that steels 
it to the impression of danger, to shut God out of 
the mind, and let nature run, without the guidance 
of his grace, 

Bata ¢ like a river smooth 
Along its earthy borders iM 

If we can do this safely, we may blot out as super- 
fluous half of the precepts and cautions of the word 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 129 


of God; our nature is not what it is there described 
to be, nor what we have seemed to find it in expe-. 
rience; we have been deceived; there is no danger 
of being corrupted by ‘evil communications,’ no 
cross in religion, no self-denial, no crucifixion of the 
natural man, no. ‘ worldly lusts’ to be slain, nothing 
to be dene but to consent to be borne to heave 

rather, to let our nature carry us there. eae that 
any should indulge in a dream like this; should 
think themselves proof against ‘the wear and tear’ 
of this current; or should esteem religion so little 
as to enter themselves on this ground, and take their 
chance for salvation in a race that leads directly 
from it, and must soon leave it out of sight! This 
is to turn their back on God, to stop their ears to 
his calls, to close their eyes to the lights he has set 
in their path, and all in an easy expectation of get- 
ting to heaven at last. That any will do this, while 
they have a specvlative belief in Christianity, and 
no settled purpose of living and dying without an — 
interest in it, is an instance of wonderful self-decep- 
tion, a proof that the plague of their hearts has got 
a deep and unsuspected hold, and that the excel- 
lence, the heart, the whole of Christianity but. its 
outside is gone from ‘thei - erced, and gone, too, 
through the advances of “corrupt nature, and leaving 
no sense of vacancy and loss behind. We cannot 


Se 
oa Ae 


e we feel. Jin'viewin 
; e aA esiug and noble youth, 
st distinction is their sensibility to vir- 


we 
tue, and to a Saviour’s compassion; who engage us 


g the prospect 


whose Sige 


so by their confidence, their warm and unsettled 


affections, their inexperience of sorrow and the di * 


gers of deception—all beautiful as they are—we see — 
them giving their hearts to the world—we ery, a“ 

cannot make them hear—we look o1 see. + oa 

as trees already in “ yellow leaf;’ the hieel that was 
in them has disappeared, gone in all but his visages a 
a blight } has fallen on the religious delicacy of the - 
mind, and, 


“ Like the crush’d flower, no time, no art, 
Can make it ae again.” 
My 


ay 


"pleasure and adenisetions none of their associates 


2 surprise or attempt to turn them to better things; 

ir simple feelings are acquiring the vigour. and. 
hardiwess of a-worldly maturity, and they are moving ~ okey 
on—a wonder to all but those who are going ther. + 

same way, yet no wonder to themselves—numbers. 

Me 3 into the grave, numbers wasting with disease, ? 
umbers bowed down with anguish and disappoint.  % 
ment, numbers consuming with envy ‘and pride 
numbers finding pleasure ceasing to please, numbers “a. 
acknowledging that ‘all is vanity,’ with no heart to 


ot a 
- ¥ : 


and forward to an clade! ‘at at hand, yet Raving 
no heart, no resolution to prepare- for it:—we see 
them no more—but the world is going on as before; 


agi ey are gone." . 
; 7 diffie It to account for the “ieonsiglgiation 
_ with. which. persons, accustomed to be wary and 


thoughtful on other subjects, will put in peril their — 


* spiivedel interests, without supposing a greater de- 
_ gree of unbelief in their mind than they are ready 

to acknowledge. To say the least, it evinces 

a degree of. insensibility to the claims and ela 
fertions of God, a disaffection” with his service, a 


et ee 
If we: ave ° nothing secure, notte which will be ours to “enjoy 


forever, ‘what shadows we are,’ and what shadows do we ie 
eflec- 


upon ! - When contemplating this truth, that was a-natural r 
Oi of Mrs. Cooper, which we find in her life by Adam Clark. 
a When I view mankind, their disappointments, miseries, diseases, 
and wretchednes ‘see that each individual has a cup of sorrow 
¢ to drink; I feel Sebticedthiat this world should ever Be alluring to 
A my eyes; that it should ever lay siege to my heart with so much 
success; that the things relative to another world should be so dimly 
viewed, so lowly prized. Religion, if it be sincere, must be the 
od prevailing ¢ disposition of the mind; it must supersede every thingy 
oF it must be a progressive work, and the soul must be preparing 
state of perfect holiness.” Can this be done, can we have any 
ae - religion at all, in a society where all concern for it is looked out of 
_ countenance, and only worldliness is indulged ? 


* 


a 
I a 5 
eo! 
132 » POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
z i x 


cided preference of the world to him, which can- 
10t be continued in, without the most fearful hazard 
of running into infidelity. It is an ordinary con- 
comitant of such a state to have all the better and 
earlier convictions of the mind unsettled. When com- 
mon respect and tenderness toward religion is dissi- 
pated, truth, once received and felt, will come under 
suspicion, and be turned off as uncertain. The great 
realities of a future life will hang in doubtfulness; 
we shall begin to suspect our need of faith in them, 
and to look with more boldness and composure to the 
trial of them without the preparation which the gos- 
pel requires. We want no better proof of this than 
reflection on the operation of our own mind will give © 
us; but, if we should not so readily find it here, we 
may see it in the multitudes. who, in maturity and old 
age, are living without religion, and dying without 
eoncern. This indifference proceeds from a gross 
perversion of the intellectual powers in reference to 
spiritual objects, which has its origin in the quali- - 
ties of the heart. They did not anticipate this result, — 
—they could not have been satisfied with any rational 
prospect of it,—but now, that they are the subjects 
of it, they see nothing strange or alarming in it. 
These considerations show what the peculiar dan- 
gers of youth are, in associations which withdraw 
their attention from religion and put them upon 


% 
‘ wr * 


Petage 4) ont 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 133 


satisfactions foreign to it. There is death in the e 
enchantment of this circle. The leayen of ‘the 
Pharisees—formality in religion, and distaste to — 
spiritual duties—will spread through all the facul- 
ties of their soul, not leaving, ultimately, so much 
as a lukewarmness for God. 

We have sometimes thought that religion is not a 
little dishonoured, and they not a little deceived, by 
well meaning representations of it as an easy prac- 
tice. Its yoke may indeed be easy, and its burden 
light, but it is only love to Christ and deadness to. 
the world that can make it so. There is no such 
thing as a religious practice without a conflict with 
ourselves,—a sacrifice of our devotion to the amuse- 
ments and pursuits of the world; and, if this be 
deemed a great hardship, it proves too clearly that 
the heart is not yet broken in penitence, nor kindled 
into reciprocal flames by the love of Christ... It is 
only poising between the world and God, proposing 


, conditions to him, not accepting of his, and indulging 


Sai 


és thoughts as little worthy of the excellency of his 
service, as of the greatness of the hopes that are 
entertained from it. To set out in religion with 
this mind is not to follow Christ, but to bargain 
with him for the enjoyment of the world ; to dictate 
on what terms we will be saved, and to pledge to 


ourselves his acquiescence in them ; to presume on 
12 


» 


* 


* 


134 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


his forbearance, and to confide in his mercy and 
‘complacency towards us, while we refuse to separate 
from the world and to bear his cross. It is a species 


of self-indulgence that will serve him only so far as 


he will let us do it in our own way. How much 


religion persons of this humour would have, or how ~ 
much practical consideration of Christ’s benefits 


and counsels they evince, it is hard to say. It is 


» wonderful that they should pretend to any; and in- 


deed they Pretend to so little, and so little evince, 
that one is in doubt whether it is their pleasure ame 
have the credit of any. Religion, were it as Sh ae 
modating to our natural desires as’ their practice 
shows it to be, would be little better, as a restraint 


upon the corruption of our nature, than a warrant 


- for its indulgence in all the ways of preferring the 


creature to the Creator. Our Saviour did not mis- 
take the truth on this subject when he told ‘a certain 
ruler,’ who had kept so many of his commandments, 
that he lacked one thing, (a lack, let it be observed, 
which was necessary to render any part of his ser- 
vice acceptable,) must sell all that he had, and give 
to the poor, ‘and so come and follow him. This 
is a reasonable demand, not only that his service is 
more advantageous and honourable to us than any 
thing else, that he has a right to require of us what 
he will, that he requires an easy service compared 


4 


os 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 135 


with what he has done for us, but also that it is 
necessary to any real transformation of our nature 
that we have a universal preference of spiritual to 
temporal things,—a readiness to give up all for 
Christ. Nothing short of this can be a proof of 
supreme love to him; and to barter with him, for 
a less measure of regard than this, is to rank him, 
in desirableness as well as loveliness, below his 
creatures, and to turn him off with the name of our 
devotion, while we give its heart and joy to the 
world. ‘Such a habitude of mind precludes all ad- 


_-yancement i in holiness, and favours only the growth - 
of the natural and unsanctified man. The supposi- 


tion, that we can advance in love to God and retain 


-, 
at the same time ‘all our creature fondnesses,’ is 


opposed to all the laws of our moral nature, and 


would, moreover, place religion out of the sphere 
of all analogy. “All things strive to ascend, and 
ascend in their striving. And shall man alone 
stoop? Shall his pursuits and desires, the reflections 
of his inward life, be like the reflected image of a 
ree on the edge of a*pool, that grows downward, 
“and seeks a mock heaven in the unstable element 
beneath it??? Strange that any shot, think to 
retain, with a religious practice, that ‘friendship’ 
(not to say eo) ‘of the world,’ which is styled 
' Aids oelection, p. 105, 2d English edition, 


a 


136 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


< enmity with God!’ Stranger still that they should 
do this, after the formality of a religious profession 
which turns all eyes to them as ‘lights in the 
world,’? and which, if it avail any thing for good 
in their experience, does justify those remarkable 
words, ‘ye were sometimes darkness, but now are 
ye light in the Lord,’? and that most reasonable 
deduction,—therefore ‘walk as children of light, 
and have no fellowship with the unfruitful works 
‘of darkness!?? This subject is so clear in itself, 
and evidence so glaring bursts upon it from every 
page of inspiration and every day of human ex- 
perience, that we have no fear of intimating that 
all must be of the same mind upon it, except those 
who are so little convinced of the deep repugnance 
of their nature to spiritual things, so worldly secure, 
and so strongly bent on gratifications foreign to re- 
ligion, that they neither know its difficulties or its 
comforts, have no experience of those “cheering, 
warming beams” that light off the divine counte- 


nance, and are thinking to keep God satisfied with a 


little devotion ‘now, and to give him a full measure 


when age or exhaustion shall incapacitate them for 


' Phil. ii. 15. 2 Eph. v. 8—11. 

3 If aman is not rising upward to be an angel, depend upon it, 
he is sinking downward to be a devil. He cannot stop at the beast. 
The most savage of men are not beasts ; they are worse, a great deal 
worse.—Coleridge’s Table Taik, vol. ii. p. 132. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 13% 


pleasure in other things. There is no religion in all 
this—clearly none. It is worse than indifference to 
it—a deliberate postponement of its claims—a dis- 
crediting of it, whether intentionally or no, and that, 


in the house of friends. This is no exaggeration ; 


‘There’s nothing left to fancy’s guess, 
You see that all is barrenness.’ 
Not a vestige of faith appears in a mind that is 
desolate and impatient without gratifications which 
indispose it to devotion. He pays but a sorry com- 
pliment to religion, who would obtain it at so cheap 
a rate—at no sacrifice of worldly vanities and hopes. 
The heart, that strongly desires, or can easily per- 
suade itself to take, the liberty of this indulgence, 
cannot stand the test of truth. It is already 
estranged from the life of God; it finds no access 
to him in prayer; its enjoyment is not in him, and 
the course it craves leads from him. Where our 
treasure is, there our heart will be also; and where 
the heart is, there also will be our delight. If it be 
imagined that we can be preparing for heaven, while 
obeying our natural fondness for things here, turning 
our thoughts and affections in another direction, 
drifting by the force of cherished habit from God, 
and only looking back to him in duty when under 
the lashes of guilt, it is the grossest self-deception. 


We are going from the object, and it is vain to 
12 


‘ * 
138 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

expect that it will overtake us. Religion is a ¢ fel- 
lowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus we Gf 
Christ,’! a ‘walking in the comfort of the Holy 4 
Ghost;’? and how are these to be maintained without . “y 
a congenial, habitual thoughtfulness, without denying oe | 
ourselves, and resisting ‘the course of this world??? = 
If we will decline a practice so reasonable, as well 

as scriptural, we must indeed have small thoughts 

of the objects to be gained by it; if we would carry 4 
-with us into this fellowship the dead weights of the _ > ‘ 
world, we may be sure that we are dallying and ‘al 

counselling with < an evil heart of unbelief.” And its ede 
power to deceive, and draw us to destruction, will 
increase with every victory it gains over us. We 


may not trust it; its venom, its art, invokes a strong 


resistance. 


“The serpent of the field, by art “ 
And spells, is won from harming ; 
But that which coils around the heart, ° 
O who hath power of charming ?” 


Our hearts are not like the hearts of others, nor is 
religion the great thing the Bible makes it, if we 
can safely presume to face the ‘ appearance of evil,’ 
and leave our interest in it unguarded. 


t John i. 3. 2 Acts ix. 31, 3 Eph. ii. 2. 


* 


% 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 139 


A 
“ 


CHAPTER VI. 


Want of self-knowledge a cause of error in religion—Self-love— 
Examples of its deceptive operation—Its opposition to correct 
views of truth—Perils of the state to which it carries the mind— 
Difficulty of understanding this state, and of escaping from it— 
Errors that grow out of it—Its incompatibility with moral improve- 
ment—Two weighty inferences—Sense of guilt always slight in 
habitual sins—Great sins rendered sinless in our eyes by a con- 
tinuance in them—Secret sins—The peculiar danger of them— 
Their effect on the moral perceptions—The false security and 
infidelity which insensibly spring from them—The folly of de- 
ciding on our character from the opinion of others—Deceptive 
appearances—Prayer of a Roman worshipper—Great inconsist- 
encies in practice—Instruction drawn from the conduct of the 
thief and the robber—The moral decency of their example com- 
pared with that of others—Effect of sinning on the judgment— 
Errors in one respect leading to error in all others—Reflections. 


Havine considered the proneness of men to 
determine the good or evil of their actions by refer- 
ence to the conduct of others, and the dangerous 
results bee follow from it, we see, more and more, 


the deceitfulness of the heart, and the great im- 


portance of knowing ourselves, if we would know 


the causes of our unbelief and error in regard to 
divine truth. The proeiges of infidelity in every 
mind keeps pace with the increase of distaste to spi- 
ritual things. When we lose our delight in an ob- 


ject of faith, it is gone from us, and we see no more 


140 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


its beauties—like as an object of vision is gone with 
all its colours, when we see it no longer. This is 
especially likely to be the result, when the truths to 
be credited are not only distasteful, but require the 
renunciation of objects and pursuits to which the 
heart has become strongly wedded. It is not to be 
expected that in this condition we shall see things 
as they are, if indeed we credit their existence; 
and, not seeing them as they are, it is impossible 
that our faith in them, be it more or less, should be 
aecording to truth, or have any suitable influence. 

We are all liable to have our judgment swayed by 
interest, prejudice, or passion; but it is very difficult 
to make any one see this in his own case. This truth 
however is universally acknowledged; and this, 
taken in connexion with the difficulty of seeing it in 
our own practice, shows, clearly, not that we are ex- 
ceptions to the rule,—that none will allow but our- 
selves—but that the powers of the intellect—the 
reason, the understanding—are susceptible of the 
greatest influence, and the grossest perversion from 
the qualities of the heart. : 

Self-love, in some of the forms of its manifesta- 
tion, sways every man’s opinions and actions, to a 
degree which he can scarcely credit. There are 
eminent instances of this which glare in every 
body’s eyes; but it is not so important to contem- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. i4l 


plate these, as the more general and less observable 
processes of it which may be seen in all. We do not 
here speak of men, who are unusually depraved, but 
of those simply, who lay many restraints on their 
evil propensities, and are in high esteem for general 
probity. And how various and blinding are the 
operations of this principle in them! He, who is, 
perhaps, never censured for any delinquency, guided 
by its specious influence, looks upon others to find 
his advantage over them. He compares himself 
with the worst, and loses sight of his own defects in 
the greatness of theirs, as a lesser light seems put out 
by a greater. Another lives on the applause and cor- 
diality of his neighbours, finding in their friendship 
the evidence of virtues which he does not possess. 
He hears their testimony to the graces of his amia- 
ble, upright, and honourable character, and it falls 
like the music of paradise upon his ear, charming 
him into delusion, and into favour with faults which 
he had before condemned. Another is extolled for a 
deed of folly or wickedness, by the unreflecting mul- 
titude, from whom he derives his importance, and 
for this reason alone, he boasts of it as his deed, and 
thinks ita great virtue. Another, when he is convict- 
ed of injustice or vice, invents palliations, complains 
of persecution, and is readily persuaded, by the sym- 
pathy and forbearance of the credulous and the kind, 


Se 

Ms 

Y ve 
& 


- 


142 POPULAR INFIDELITY. ; 

+ 
that his defences are reasonable. Another, when he ~ 
has offended you, may confess his fault, and if you are 
ready to forgive and approve, he may be so well _ 
_ pleased with the virtue of his confession that he will 
think better of himself than he did before he had 
offended, and this, when, if he had not feared the ‘a 
loss of your favour, he would not have confessed or 
felt any sorrow for his offence. Whether the object be 
himself, or one affecting himself, no man under the 
reigning influence of this principle sees ¢he truth, 
the whole truth; he has not light enough for that. 
He sees things to a great extent as he wishes to see 
them; and he never wishes to see them as crossing 
and opposing himself. We need. not say what 
havoc, what base transformations and images of the 
truth self-love will be likely to cause, when we 
come to estimate the claims of Christianity, which 
proposes, as a chief thing, to undo the nature, to take 
down the pride and sufficiency of man. 

‘The influence of an inordinate self-love, in recon- 
ciling us to our own evil ways, may be variously 
illustrated. That there is much dishonesty even 
among men who are accounted respectable, and that 
there is ground in our nature for apprehending it, 
is evident from the laws and guards that, are raised 
against it: indeed this truth is admitted by all. It is 
also admitted that much dishonesty is practised 


a 4) 
r 


% 


? 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 143 


which is never exposed, and cannot be made the sub- 


" ject of legal investigation; but look for the authors 


_ of it, and you will not find a man of this class who 


thinks himself practically dishonest, or believes a 
report which declares him to be unworthy of confi- 
dence. Their cherished impression is that they are 
not justly liable to this charge, whereas, if another had 
acted precisely as they have done, they could have 
no trust in his principles. Tell a man of the oppor- 
tunities of doing good which he has neglected, and 
if he has ever felt an emotion of kindness, or de- 


signed a virtuous action, he will refer to these for 


consolation, and perhaps view himself not the less _ 


virtuous for not having done what he has delayed 
only that he might do it more seasonably; and who- 
ever has done more, if more fortunate, has not, he 
fancies, designed more or wished better.t. He, who 
is criminally selfish in all his ways, often says much 
of the selfishness of the human heart, sees not in 
himself what he complains of in others, reasons plau- 
sibly on the arts employed by many (himself em- 
ploying the .same) to appear benevolent and secure 
esteem, and concludes, if the methods of promoting 
our interests are diverse, our motives in all are sin- 
gle, and thus imperceptibly finds himself to be good 


1So true is it, as Shakspeare says, that “our crimes would de- 
spair if they were not cherished by our_virtues.” 


: . 


al 


144 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


in finding that others are bad. The avaricious mar, 
whose storehouses are full, can hardly believe it his 
duty to give to the poor: he has acquired his wealth 
by industry and economy, (virtues these!) and can 
therefore see no reason why he should bestow it - 
upon those who, by the neglect of the same means, 
have become poor. He considers that every man 
who lives in indolence, does it with the prospect of 
poverty before his eyes, and must therefore have 
preferred the inconveniences of want to the pains 
of industry; and if he has learned too late the folly 
_of his choice, let him remember that, as a recom- 
“pense for the evils of his present state, he has al- 
ready had a season of ease and pleasure. He thus 
ascribes all his suecess to himself, (no divine favour 
in it all;) leaves the unavoidable losses which some- 
times reduce men to want wholly out of the account, 
and takes only that view which is adapted to quiet 
the apprehensions and secure the possessions of ava- 
rice. He, who in the heat of passion has done you 
an injury, may be disposed, after reflection, to make 
you satisfaction; but should he now be told that you 
merited the treatment you received, and ought to 
atone for your own offences, he will change his 
mind, and settle into a soothing quietude, consider- 
ing his remorse both as the result of weakness and 
as evidence of his disposition to do right. Alexan- 


7 * 


Seat’ 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 145 


der, when he had in a fit of rage slain one of his 
most approved friends and captains, sunk into deep 
remorse, and became inconsolable at the recollec- 
tion of the horrid deed; but, when a philosopher 
appeared in his presence to console him, and told 
him he was made to rule, and was not accountable 
for his actions, his grief was alleviated, and he 
became more haughty and- unjust.1. He was -re- 
lieved by the authority of philosophy appealing 
to his vanity. Thousands, too, relieve themselves 
from remorse by referring their sins to the pro- 
pensities and infirmities of nature. Hence they 
have an apology for the worst vices and crimes. 
Their greatest offences are regarded either as mis- 
fortunes or weaknesses—as misfortunes, when they 
are made to suffer for them—as weaknesses, when 
they find them wasteful and unsatisfying. Whether 
it be satiety and disgust, or reproach and suffering, 
which they experience, it is not the pollution or 
guilt of sin which fixes the attention: no; they 
are not humbled;—they think themselves neglected, 
wronged, oppressed, and are perhaps ready to com- 
plain of God as unequal in his ways- towards them. 
Examples of the operation of this principle in per- 
verting the judgment might easily be multiplied; 
but in those now presented, it may be clearly seen 


! Plutarch’s Life of Alexander. . 
13 


146 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


with what false, yet plausible arguments men jus- 
tify in themselves what they condemn in others, and 
with what avidity they listen to any thing that lulls 
their remorse, or flatters their vanity. . 
A mere continuance in this state is enough to con- 
firm and increase all its’ evils. The habit of view- 
ing things through this medium, and of measuring 
them by ourselvés, is greatly to be dreaded. It is 
not likely to alarm, but works swiftly and silently, 
like a disease that is unknown, yet fatally pervading 
every part of the system. It eats away all the bet- 
ter sentiments of the heart, and sullies all the per- 
fections of mind. We may not be aware of this, 
but the danger is not less, but greater, that it 
will master us. We see, especially in the unobserv- 
able processes of our depravity, (unobservable, not 
by others, but by ourselves, because it has insensibly 
taken from us the power of discriminating them,) 
our necessity for a light superior to nature, which 
shall overcome and extinguish our deceitful glimmer- 
ings—just that, indeed, which the Bible proposes, as 
that is just what all accurate inspection of our na- 
ture shows it to be, not an arbitrary appointment, 
but a provision replete with the clearest understand- 
ing of our frame, and the clearest foresight of its 
fitness to the ends it was designed to secure. -No- 
thing can be more irr ational than to trust the natural 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 147 


goodness of our hearts, and, if we would but judge 
ourselves. as we judge others, we should be wary of 
this danger: the fact that we are not.generally so, 
- only makes the danger greateryand proves that we 
are victims to self-delusion, not that our hearts are 
better.. It shows that, how drossy _soever our na- 
tures are growing, we see not. ‘how the most fine 
gold has become changed.’ - The process is diffusive 
and easy, running through all the faculties and pow- 
ers of the moral man,—blinding those it does not 
kill. . To love ourselves, to seek only ‘our own 
things,’ is to obey nature, and nature in her lowest 
ends.. But it is a practice so common, so agreeable, 
that we question if the morality of it is often doubted. 
It will however awaken the deepest solicitude in a 
considerate mind to know that it precludes all moral 
"improvement, and bears the soul downward, gently 
' perhaps, yet with the weight of a mountain, as 
ascertained when the heart makes a due resistance. 
It is'a setting up of ourselves in the place of God; 
not.an attaining to ourselves, but a falling below this 
measure, and finding our level, like water in a storm, 
in the lowest places of the earth. It nurtures and 
matures in us that iron selfishness, which is the com- 
‘mon blind. and distinetion of manhood and age. a 


1 If our Peace be duly considered in this light, it will be clear, that 
it must depreciate with age, unless that tendency be counteracted by 


148 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


Persons, who have gone this length, never think that 
any ‘strange thing’ has happened to them, and in- 
deed the thing is not so strange, as great: it is a natural 
growth of the heart, and has so completely rooted 
out all other qualities, and wrought so great a dis- 
relish for them, that it is rather the heart itself than 
a quality of it; and ho wonder it should awaken no 
surprise or apprehension. Fhe ereature, that is all 
tiger, never fears that dread totality when seem only 
in himself. The tempers and designs, which such 
men guard against in others, in-themselves appear 
harmless as the breathings of life within them. 
Their life is bound up in the world, their heart con- 
tempered and concorporate with sensible things, and 
all their pretences of respect to the unseen realities 
of eternity are but as the unreal images that gather 
in the view of a disordered eye, the faintest notions 
of what they neither heartily believe nor desire. 
If with the pretence of public spirit, they overstep 
the usual bounds of self-interest, it is to catch. an 
opportunity of serving themselves on a larger seale— 
munificent of beams which draw all eyes to them. 


the agency of the Holy Spirit.’ This feature of the Christian reli- 
gion is that, without which no renovation of the heart can be con- 
ceived as possible. Without divine illumination man can neither 
know nor improve himself; and, disregarding this truth, his course, 
as shown above, will be downward, though his aie may not be 
perceived by himself 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 149 


They stand at a perpetual gaze, joying or hoping to 
see some favourable turn in their affairs, and ready 
to grasp at the sum of earthly good, not from any 
sense of duty to God or man, but as if struck with a 
desire to lese themselves in their own abundance. 
HIivery fresh success puts new life and soul into 
them; but reduce them to despair of worldly emolu- 
ment, and the most inviting and charming descrip- 
tions of heavenly rest have no reviving power; their 
hearts languish and die, as if the principle of life had 
already gone from them, , 

It is, therefore, impossible that any one in. this 
state should have correct views of-himself, or be 
able. to see the. beauty and excellence of divine 
things. But it should be remembered, that it is a 
state to which our nature isfast carrying us, which 
is itself little other than the growth of nature, and 
which nothing can hinder. us from entering, tending 
to it as we do, but the counteraction of love to God. 
Without this the heart will inevitably fasten on 
lower objects, and have a selfish growth. It will 
‘have a devotion, if not to God, to itself, through the 
love of the world. This tendency alone is sufficient 
ground for distrusting the justness of our conceptions 
of moral qualities whether in ourselves or others. 

It shows also that great danger to integrity of mind 


must arise from the indulgence of an undue self-esti- 


a* 
rw) 


150 POPULAR INFIDELITY. — 4, 
eo e a 
mation. No one has any remorse for this, nor do we 


expect to make any proper impression of its evil. 
When we speak of undue self-estimation we mean, not 
those gross exhibitions of it, which make it the singu- 
larity of an individual, but any degree of it, which 
affects the judgment, In this degree it is perhaps 
universal; and it will, if not steadily resisted, gam 
complete ascendeney. Where there is much’ self- 
control and strength of mind, there may be no 
offensive disclosures of- it, nothing amounting: to 
weakness; but its operation, thou gh stern and manly, 
may not be less vital or less influential. The pre- 
valence of this vice (if vice that may be called 
which is not so esteemed) is greater than some sup- 
pose—so various are the modes of ‘its manifestation, 
and so opposite the ways in which it accomplishes its 
end.’ We may not be aware of any danger from it 


It may be thought that knowledge on this subject can only breed 
distrust; bat not so—that is-but an abuse of it. We cannot shut 
our eyes to the truth, if we would,—and should not, if we could. 
Ignorance one of another is more likely to awaken suspicion, and to 
chill the affections through fear of injustice and hypocrisy in others. 
No trust, no affection, that is not based upon a due appreciation of 
our nature,—is suitable to us as rational creatures. It has been well 
said, “ Uniess the companions of our lives are absolutely unworthy of 
our love, or ourselves are incapable of pure and generous emotions, 
we shall love them with more vivacity, and with more steadiness, 
when the depth of their faults has been sounded, than we could 
while ignorance (mother of. jealousy and fear) stood. in the way 
between heart and heart.”* 


* Saturday Evening, p. 213, : 


i. 
as : 
Ke POPULAR INFIDELITY. 151 
ak ees 


to ourselyes—we may think we are superior to it— 


but we must believe others are under its power, and 
shall not be able to persuade them that we are not. 
The evil is thus, by its own action, concealed from 
us; but, like the poison that lies dormant in the 
system, it is not dead—it will do its work if not 
' -eountéracted. The marble feels not the operation 
of the chisel, though it yields to it; and the secular 
man feels. not the workings of his depravity, though 
he yields to them,—and yielding he is: often when 
he least knows it. The heart cannot be well known 
without habitual attention to its secret and changing 
motions, nor then, without the aid of light from 
above. It is a ‘mystery of. iniquity,” and the 
startling truth. is, that the more> complacency: we 
indulge with regard to it, the more secure we feel, 
and the deeper become its deceptions. .The longer 
we seek for reasons to justify ourselves in doubtful 
practice, (practice that but harms us in way of 
self-indulgence,) the more easily will they be 
formed, and the less evidence shall we require to 
prove us safe and right. Borne on by the down- 
ward tendencies of nature, and diverted from the 
“consideration of our duty and destiny, by the glare 
of objects that forever assail the senses and occupy 
the affections, we easily and remorselessly settle into 


ignorance of our hearts, and into the practice of 
eo 


* 


1525 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


immoralities which an overgrown estimation of our- 
selves will not permit us to fear or condemn. 

7~ Man is always growing morally better or worse, 
and worse he is surely growing, without much care 
and study to become better; and if it be a care and 
study not heeding the counsel, nor depending on the 
grace of God, little will be done. The-extremes, 
the temporal hazards, of iniquity, may be shunned; 
the corruption of nature may run in the forms of 
a severe morality, but in the end nothing will be 
found at the bottom. but self-importance; it will be 
seen that he has only ‘ brought forth fruit unto him- 
self ;’? and the very shunning of vices and the prac- 
tice of unusual virtues, so called, may have contributed 
to this his natural growth. What then, without the 
most industrious care, must be his progress?.. The 
influence of his selfish passions increases with his 
wants, and sensibility cools with the advance of age. 
Conscience,.once tender and quick to do her office, 
becomes dilatory...The indulgence of evil desires, 
once attended with remorse, is now attended. with 
pleasure. - Duties; once considered duties and never 
neglected without pain, now seem hardly to be 
duties, and are omitted without any compunction or 
care. that they are so. Acts of overreaching injus- 
tice, or of withholding avarice, have been repeated 

waht | ' Hos. x. I, 


BA 


ile » 


Des 


ve r 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 153 


till they appear to be right.. Such is the process of 
time and habit in undoing our natural goodness, or 
rather that which we fancy so, but which is so, only 
as bespeaking our high descent, as reaching after 
perfection, and helping us to attain thereto, when not 
obstructed by adverse desires and pursuits. 

If the tendencies and deceptions of self-love 
are such as we have disclosed,—if, as observation 


1 We-do not mean here simply what Coleridge somewhere, we 
think in his Friend, expresses, though that may hint its action. We 
pretend not to quote his exact words—‘ Conscience, as it is, is like the 
moon to us, which, with all its massy shadows and deceptive gleams, 
still lights us on our way, poor travellers as we are. With all its 
spots and changes and eclipses, with all its vain halos and bedimming 
vapours, it still reflects the light that is to rise on us in eternity, 
and which even now is rising.” We mean more a natural seeking 
after an undefined but suitable good, which is thus graphically de- 
scribed :—* For man doth not rest satisfied either with fruition of that 
wherewith his life is preserved, or with performance of such actions — 
as advance him most deservedly m estimation ; but doth further covet, 
yea, oftentimes manifestly pursue, with great earnestness, that which 
cannot stand him in any stead for vital use; that which exceedeth 
the reach of sense, somewhat divine and heavenly, which, with hid- 
den exultation, he rather surmiseth than conceiveth ; somewhat he 
seeketh, and what that is direetly he knoweth not, yet very inten- 
tive desire thereof doth so incite him that all other known desires 
and delights give place to this but only suspected desire.”* Some- 
thing of a presentiment like this, in different degrees of strength, 
has distinguished man in every age of thé world. It is nature (ill 
working at best) giving signs of her loss, a ght com necessity for 
light and strength from above. When fu ight comes in, and the 
way to the object is made clear. strange that interest in it should often 


flag ! 
* Hooker’s Church Polity, Book I. 


% Be 


bl 


: a 
154 . POPULAR INFIDELITY. "a -, See 


aca 


teaches, the sense of guilt is. abated by the tiene 


repetition of sinful actions,—two most weighty and 


alarming conclusions follow, namely, that in our 


habitual sins the sense of guilt will always be weak, » 


~and often entirely lost, and also, that our sins may 
possess much enormity, and the sense of guilt be 
slight, and our ways be truly evil, and yet be render- 
ed clean in our own eyes by a continuance in them: 
thus confirming the inspired aphorism, ‘All the 
ways of a man are clean in his own eyes.’ Things, 
once clearly wrong and strongly disapproved, change 
in his mould, and become 
ce ‘Like “ates enskyed and sainted.’ 

As any one of the passions may possess its object 
with beauty and virtue, or with loathsomeness and 
deformity, according as the nature of the passion 
may ~be, and these qualities have all the influence 
of realities with us, though none of them properly 
belong to the object; so our self-admiration makes us 
see unreal. virtues, and: blinds us to real vices, in 
ourselves. Through the whole range of practice it 


TMDS WIE iy Ase oe Slits | ' 
~ .-. Power to cheat the eye with blear. illusion 
- And give it false. preenenent, 32 


it. conceals from us. the harm and guilt a? sins : to 
which we are attached, and which a loving. practice 


Prov. xvi. 2... 


* 


Y wt se POPULAR INFIDELITY. . 155 


“woul Hive us (as innocents) retain. Thus by sin- 
ning much, or by sinning habitually, we come, some- 
times, to think ourselves hardly to be sinners. How 
“should these inferences startle the confidence we 
have had in our own goodness, drive us to close and 
unremitted self-examination, and awaken in us the 
fearful and imploring cry, ‘Who.can tell how oft he 
offendeth? O, cleanse thou me froin secret faults, 
and keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins!’ 
It is truly a weighty thing to live in our nature, with 
a responsible mind. Cast upon an ocean, on which 
no man ever walked safely except by faith, we disre- 
gard.all experierice, and attempt to walk in the sight 
of our own eyes. While we are in ease and: uncon: 
cern, the delusion that blinds us, the weights that 
sink us, and the reckoning that awaits us, are accumu- 
lating. Our movement, though unheéded, is sure and 
uninterrupted to the bar of God, and the account, to 
be settled there by most of us, will be composed of 
habitual sins,—sins, possibly, which had not depre- 
ciated us in the estimation of men,—sins, wonderfully, 
and, alas! which we had accounted sinless, and for 
which, therefore, we did- not expect to answer. O! 
there is something fearful in living with ’a slight 
and inefficient sense of the evil of sin, —something 
deadly in the quiet which it brings! They are onl 
sins—sins that are without reproach—which chiefly 


a 


“*% 
ka 


156 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


work the ruin of the soul; and yet, that ruin how 
great, and how strangely small, in our account, the 
evil that can affect it! Here lies our danger: in a state 
‘of ill knowledge and self-conceit,’ the chances are, 
that we shall cherish many sins as harmless,—that if 


we have not come to this pass now, our practice will 


_ soon carry us there. That felicitation of ours on 


our freedom from vices may show, not that we are 
‘better than others, but that where our ‘mortal frailty’ 
has come out in them, in us it is smothered, not ex- 
tinct. The little sins in us, (little, because we think 
them so,) in consequence of the advantages of our 
condition, may be more criminal and hardy than the 
vices which we so shudder at in-others. Be this so 
or not, their drift toward destruction is more dan- 
gerous than that of greater crimes, because we are apt 
to feel more secure with them. Great iniquities are 
not easily forgotten, and are therefore more likely to 
be repented of; but habitual sins, those unoffending, 
-those dormant reptiles, that we cherish in our bosoms, 
conceal their malignity, while they retain their 
venom. Resting quietly with them, and taking. no 
thought of what passes within us, we are like him 
who inclines to sleep while the work of death is 
going on,—like him who is fortified by a charm in 
‘the moment of ruin. Pleased with these soft and 
silken cords, we perceive not that our onward motion 


ae 


% &, 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 157 


draws them closer, and, while the length, we may be 
permitted to go with them, is uncertain, heed not the 
ever revolving wheel which winds them ug _ Such is 
the false security, which the practice of sinnin g breeds 
in the heart... The warnings of God’s word and of 
his providence annoy possibly, but alarm us not. In 
the bosom of fostering merey—in the folds of divine’ 
compassion—we have grown cold, by a process 
deemed innocent, and, when any event or flash of 
judgment to come puts the question, what is the 
prospect? promising, responds our infatuated nature. 
This is truly a human conclusion, drawn from 
facts humanly perceived; and if nature be stronger 
than grace, she will continue to have the best of the 
argument to the end. . 
Believing what is believed. pe perceiving what 
is perceived not, man may be largely knowing, 
according to his conceptions, though. knowing 
little, according to truth. Sin and the love of it 
have benumbed and stupified his faculties, and it is 
only in his own eyes, ‘ which see not,’ (though see- 
ing,) that his ways appear clean. Self-examination 
and self-distrust, duties of self-preservation, are sel- 
dom entertained. They are often omitted, while 
there is the greatest composure and study in plan- 
ning and executing deceptions on others, the success 


of which has the effect of a deception on our- 
14 


itt 
158 ~ POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
selves by blinding us to our design and guilt: 
Think of the infatuation of him, who, in concealing 
his true character from others, has concealed it from 


himself, having discernment enough to conclude he 
is 8 good because not known to be bad by those whom 


‘has deluded: Think of the complacency of him 


“who takes satisfaction in a reputation which he knows 


to be undeserved, and seeks credit in reproaching 
vices which he shuns not, in praising virtues which he 
wishes not to possess. He is no stranger—we need not 
question whether we know him. - Think, too, of the 
connexion between the respectability of vice and its, 
prevalence, of the solemn air of him, who is ponder- 
‘ing upon his ways, in contrast with the high looks 


of him, who is computing the avails of success in his 


secret and sinful designs; of a ‘world, lying,’ not 


more ‘in iniquity,’ than in wait to accomplish selfish 
ends, plotting in light, and sallying forth in dark- 
ness—and deny, if we will, that, in surprising others, 
we have not found ourselves on some of these con- 
cealed posts. . | 

' We may think our condition fair, with all the 
evidence there is against it, or we may know it to 
be ill, without concern, but either is the strongest 
proof, we can give, of self-ignorance and ‘unbelief. 
What we appear to ourselves or others i is no certain 
index of what we are, for though a corrupt tree will 


* 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 159 
*° tet 2 


not bear good fruit, yet it may bear fruit which wwe 
will take for good. The face of the earth presents 
no indications of the crystal spring, or of the golden 
mine, which lies deep beneath the surface; we may. 
have.conjectures about. them, but to have knowlaiige, 
we must dig or bore until we find them. So, al 
we may have depths of corruption, spirits in us—_ 
which none, not even ourselves, have suspected, and 
of which it may be said, ‘This kind can come forth 
by nothing, but by prayer and fasting.’ The lake, - 
whose surface. is smooth and clear, may have a tur- 
bid fountain. The tree, that blooms and towers, 
may. have a rottenness within. The object, which 
at a distance sparkles with beauty, when approached, 
often presents deformity. : 

There is a remarkable illustration on this subject 
in one.of the epistles of Horace.’ 


-. Vir bonus, omne forum quem spectat et omne tribunal, 
Quandocanque deos vel porco vel bove placat, 
« Jane pater” claré, claré quum dixit “ Apollo ;” 
Labra movet, metuens audiri: “ Pulcra Laverna,” 
_ Da mihi fallere, da justum sanctumque videri 
Noctem peccatis et frondibus ee nubem. 
“The good man, who is honoured in courts of justice 
and i in all the assemblies of. the great, whenever he 
would please the gods with a sacrifice, cries aloud 


and repeatedly, O father Janus, O Apollo! and at 


1 Mark.ix. 29. > - 2 Epistola xvi. ad Quinctium. 


F 


160 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


the same time moves his lips, fearing to be heard,’ 
(that is, prays with the strong whispers of the 
heart,) ‘O beautiful Laverna,’ (a goddess deemed 
the protectress of thieves and impostors,) “ grant 
me success in deceiving, grant that I may appear 
just and holy, and cover my faults with ‘a cloud, and 


auds with darkness.’ This prayer is not more 


remarkable than instructive, as illustrating the nature 


of man. It is only nature overheard in whispering 
the secrets of its devotion. It is no very strange oc- 
currence, and all that makes it striking is that it is 
brought so fully out in words, The worship of the 
Roman goddess has ceased, but the Roman heart is 
the heart within us, and the spirit of this petition, 
‘believe it, if not uttered in words, is often put forth 
most importunately in action and desire: This was 
the prayer of our first parents, when they hid in the 
garden. It was the prayer of Cain, when he said, 
‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ though guilty of a 
crime so foul that it ‘smelt to heaven.’ It was the 
prayer of Peter, when he said, ‘I know not the man.’ 
It is the common prayer of sinners; the swift peti- 
tion of all who nightly run to mischief. No man 
was ever guilty of a deceit or crime, which he did 
not desire to conceal, and-with hope of concealment, 
who has not done that, which he did not dare to do 
without it? Words are but the mere reports to us 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. _ 161 


of desire in prayer, and sooner than they die on our 
ear, yea, sooner than uttered, the desire itself is gone 
‘to heaven; for ‘ the very thoughts of our hearts are 
known afar off.’ Wicked designs and aspirations are 
mot often-viewed in this character, but if we knew 
of one who could. give us impunity, they would all 
run in the forms of petition. Trungindiimecaaior’ 
believing in a being, who could prosper a and protect 
them in injustice: and crimes, and where shouitd we 
go to escape his worshippers? -The suggestion is 
sufficient to.show that we could not live in such.a 
world. Earnest prayer would: not then be the rare 
practice it now is, and .if- fully answered, property, 
reputation, life, nothing would be safe. 

. How humiliating is this survey of human nature; 
and how should it startle the sinner to think of the 
desires that ascend from his heart daily, and will, 
till in consternation and despair he calls upon the 
mountains to fall upon him, and hide him from the 
coming retribution, or till, in another spirit, not that 
of nature, he eries, ‘Search me, O God, and know 
my heart; try me, and know my thoughts, and see 
-if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in 
the way everlasting!’ Who that has lived long, and 
endeavoured with-solicitude to live uprightly, has 
not in memory some concealed iniquities over which 


he wishes to weep, before that day ‘ when God will. 
14* 


162 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


make manifest the hidden counsels of the heart, 
when that which hath been spoken in darkness shall 
be heard in light, and that which hath been spoken 
in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the 
housetops?”? O, the insolence and presumption ofa 
being who cowers beneath the gaze-of human vision, 
but trembles not at the sight of Him whose eyes.are 


ten thousand times brighter than the sun,—who so _ 
much respects his fellow-man, that he wishes to de- 
ceive him with an appearance of excellence which 
he does. not possess, but respects so little the Being 
who breathed him into life, that he is not-concerned 
to conceal his iniquities from him, and neglects even 
the civility of thanking him for his gifts, a civility 
which he is scrupulous to pay: to the most worthless 
of his creatures! Even the thief, as he lays his 
hand upon your property, has care that you see him 
not. - The robber goes forth in the night; he aecosts 
the stranger, and will have no witness by; but who, 
in the moment of guilt, stops to determine if God be 
the witness of his doings? Wonder not at the pre- 
sumption of the thief, who steals knowing. all eyes 
to be upon him, or of the robber, who commences his 
work in the presence of thousands: theirs is prudence, 
compared with the presumption of him, who, profess- 
ing to believe that all his feelings and actions are 
known to God, still acts and feels as though he he- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 163 


lieved it not. This is impudence with a vengeance, 


and it has become so common, that nobody wonders 


at it. What. a reflection is it upon our nature, if amid 


all our labours and sacrifices to acquire the esteem of 
mortals, we do not so much as think of the esteem 
of Him in whom we live and move and have our 
being, and who, forgotten by us in health and plenty, 
hears our cry in sickness and want! . What indig- 
nity does he offer to his Maker, who, in. love with 
mortal praise, pines away under mortal censure, 
who: grieves for his earthly losses, and rejoices in 


prosperity and in the consolation and kindness 


of earthly friends,—but never sorrows for his sins, 


never rejoices in heavenly favour, never glows with 
love to Him-who gave him his friends, his privi- 
leges, and all things here! What a display of divine 
forbearance is it, that we have this moment to re- 
member our ingratitude, and to. what.a pass of de- 
generacy and insusceptibility has he come who (not 
like the plant bending all its leaves and- branches to- 
ward the sun and putting forth flowers as in honour 
of its genial glare,-but like one dropping all- the 
growth of life toward the earth as with intent to grow 


to it) does not begin-to admire and love, as he looks 


up the path of his existence, and sees the stream 
of mercy which has ever flowed along by its side, 


and which proceeded from the great and beneficent 


164 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

source whence he started, and from which he has 
delighted to wander! 

: Reflections of this kind are natural and important, 
‘but we would not have them carry the mind of the 
reader from the-immediate object of investigation, 
namely, the tendency of our depravity, in one way 
and another, to obscure the mind, and disqualify it 
for perceiving the true character of our own _exer- 
cises and qualities. So great is this tendency, that 
the practice of sinning is found generally to dimi- 
nish our sense of the evil of sin, and cause us to 
approve of acts which once appeared to be exceed- 
ingly sinful.. On this principle it is that we account 
for the well known fact that truths, which are most 
influential in youth, generally lose much of their power 
in riper years; so much so, that we have the result of 
a mind, when ‘it has become enlarged with know- 
ledge, and capable (intellectually) of a fuller compre- 
hension of the truth, and of all the lights that shine 
on it, and all the miseries and dangers of neglecting 
it, losing its capacity of being impressed by it, and 
contemplating it with an indifference hardly due to 
errors that have been long since detected and laid 
aside.. But no error in this case has been discovered, 
none is acknowledged: still there is a change in the 
man; sin is not so sinful as it was; truth has lost its 


majesty; other objects have increased in importance. 


_* 


<I 


m “* “4 

POPULAR INFIDELITY. 165 
and the accustomed amount of conviction is gone. 
His sense of his own danger has diminished as he 
has become familiar with it, and his fear of God seems 
to have been expelled by the experience of success 
without his favour. He sleeps now; and all his 
thoughts about divine things are little better than 
dreams. He takes no alarm, and, whatever else he 
believes, he does not, he knows he does not, believe 
that sin is so terrible a thing as God or an awakened 
conscience represents it. And unbelief in this par- 
ticular puts a thick veil upon the whole system of 
divine truth. If the eye be evil here, the whole 
body is full of darkness.t Take away this truth, or 
obscure its evidence in the mind, and the whole-is 
tarnished; no other truth will be left entire; nothing 
will be perceived aright. Every deliberate sin. is 
preceded by a process of unbelief in the mind with 
regard to some revealed truth; and hence the fruit of 
sinning is greater confidence in sinning, and a dimi- 
nished consciousness of guilt and pollution. With all 
the defilements which attach even to the best of us, 
we should therefore have done with our confidence in 
the justness and accuracy of our conceptions of any 
truth, except-as we are ‘ taught of God.’ Only as he 
shines into our hearts do we see light and get under- 
standing. The infatuation of sin is not more clearly 

. - 1 Luke xi, 34. 


i ea a 


y < Ric 
. ai ee 
166 POPULAR “INFIDELITY. 
seen in any thing, than in its power to charm away 
the sense of guilt and danger. This, let alone all its 


er is sufficient to show that we are always 


in greater peril than we imagine. Men, who have 


lost their reputation, their all, by their iniquities, 
were once confident -in their capacity and willing- 
ness to resist temptation, but depended not upon 
Him who alone is able to subdue the heat.of the 
furnace, and to stop the lion’s mouth.!. The danger 
is not small, that even: the Christian, if he permits 
the watches which he sets over his ways to slumber, 
will seek in concealment a protection for crime, 
or a covering for sin. Alas! what does observation, 
and what, we add, does experience teach us on this 
point? Man, who is not a discerner of the thoughts 
and purposes of the heart, sees but little of what 
composes our essential character; and well it is, if 
in what he sees not, we do not oftenest fail, and fail 
with the least concern. We may too as clearly de- 
ceive ourselves as others. ‘The heart is ever in the 
mazes of sin, the varnished motives and idle conceits 


1 No system of religion that does not furnish supernatural aid 
can meet the necessities of man. This feature of Christianity en- 
titles it to the homage of our purest reason. Our complete depend- 
ence on Divine aid, rightly considered, is our strongest ground of 
hope and encouragement. We ean do nothing of ourselves; and 
when we learn to attempt nothing alone, we are coming to a right 
mind; we shall put forth Divine strength in arms of flesh, and ‘so, 
shall be able to ‘do all things.’ 


(167 


of self-love. Pride, the faithful guardian of the evil 
arcana of the soul, extinguishes the lights of truth, 
‘making those apartments of the mind, that were 
darksome before, totally dark. When this princi- 
ple takes the lead, nothing works well. We see 
ourselves i in our own light, which is only glorious, 
as our own.! Weare thus deceived; we see nothing © 
clearly and impartially; and, as we are apt to feel 
‘too secure to search after danger or to deal plainly 
with ourselves, no one ¢an tell what the end will be. 

It is to be considered also that imperfections and 
sins, once concealed in this way, are more ensnaring 
and dangerous to the soul than any other. Repent- 
ance for such sins, if ever it comes, generally comes 
late. The smiles of an approving world are sooth- 
ing smonitars of ah concealed. He too, who, in 
~ 1Pride ‘and. veer are a prolific source ‘of error in our opinions 
of ourselves. Self-knowledge is the best corrective of them, but 


the difficulty is, that they arrogate this. attainment, and thereby ex- 
clude it from the mind. 


The man whose eye 

Is ever on himself, doth look on one, 

The least.of Nature’s works, one who might move 
The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds 
Unlawful ever. O be wiser, thou! ° 


~ Instruct that true knowledge leads to love ; 
True dignity abides with him alone 
Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, 
Can still suspect ;. and still revere himself 
In lowliness of heart— WorpswortH, 


168 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


the hope of concealment, can deliberately commit 
sin, is of all men least likely to reform while con- 
cealment lasts. Success in his efforts to hide his 
guilt generally imboldens the transgressor, and one 
instance of success after another is generally fol- 
lowed by an increasing. frequency of crime.. So it 


is with every kind of iniquity and fraud which hu- 


man laws cannot reach and punish, These. gain 
prevalence by slow degrees, and become viler as 
they prevail, till civil laws are violated; and still 
the sinner, ¢rusted, and reckless, may seem to him- 
self as harmless as when he began to sin. It is at 
the point of detection or exposure that repentance 
and reformation usually begin; and it is well, if the 
tears of such an hour are not selfish drops, drops 
that lull the conscience, without improving the 
heart. There is much of this kind of repentance. 
‘Men behold themselves detected in their iniquities; 
the pleasure of them is then gone, and can be remem- 
bered only as vapid and unsatisfying; they blame 
themselves for such follies past; they have some- 
thing very like repentance, but it is merely rest- 
iveness under present difficulties; the love of self 
‘taking a new, a more profitable direction.’ _ But the 
thing to be considered most is, that the change, 


1“ 'Thou may’st of double ignorance boast, 
Who know’st not that thou nothing know’st.” 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 169 


whatever it be, and by whatsoever motives effected, _ 
is likely to be esteemed a virtue, and converted to 

an occasion of self-gratulation. Xvery view, there- 
fore, which we can take of ourselves, warns us of 

the infatuating influence and fearful evil of sin, and 
teaches us, if we would live uprightly, to live hum- __ 
bly, and to have our trust in heavenly aid—not at a 


all in ourselves, 


7. 


15 


* POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


a? a 
& 5 i 


CHAPTER VII. 


Influence of character on belief—Direct application of the reasoning 
in the preceding chapter—Analogies between what men think of | 
themselves and what they think of others—These considered as 

* the cause and proof of infidelity—Indifference of men to religion 
not accidental, but the result of settled opinions—Mental processes ye 
by which these opinions are acquired—T'he deductions of sense “ve 
taken for those of reason—Reason held in the service of sense— 
Singular love of the world—Our own depravity approved when it 2 
goes to excess in one direction, yet hated under other and lower 
manifestations—Idolatry—Analogy of its forms to human ch * 
ter—Condition of the heart—Its changes great, yet impercepti 
Nature, not counsel, taken for a guide in spiritual OH, 2 
Its inventions—Its resentment of the truth—Its proneness to clothe ~ 
God in its own likeness—Spiritual idolatry—Analogies bearing on 
the general subject—True basis of practical infidelity. J 


WE come now to make a more particular alas: oe 


ee 


tion of the reasoning in the preceding chapter to the 
proofs of infidelity. Ifthe corruption of our nature, © 
in one and another form of its action, perverts our 
judgment of our own moral qualities, it is reasonable 
to anticipate the same result when we estimate the 
moral qualities of others. This principle we have 
already considered at some pen eoy 1 but we wish 
@t now to show more clearly its pertinence to our main 
object of inquiry. There is generally admitted to _ 


be a strong analogy between what men think of * 
"See Chap. II. < & 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. ** 471 
- 
themselves and what they think of others. To poi 


out all the analog! ies between their the ie and 
habits, and the thoughts and habits w 1ich they 
_ ascribe to others, though it might be instructive and 
- amusing, would not comport with the directness of 
design which, at this point of our progress, it is im- 
portant to observe. A few examples of the general 
admission of this truth will be sufficient to clear the 
way for the use which we intend to make of it. 
We have seen that belief is not so purely an in- 
tellectual process, as not to be overruled and con- 
“trolled by the qualities and passions of the heart. 
For example, when we see a fault or a vice in those 
whom we love—a friend, a brother, or a parent— 
our affection 26 modifies our perception of its odious- 
; ness, that we never see the whole truth and nothing 
] but the truth. - In like manner, when a virtue is the 
virtue of an enemy or a rival, it is. ill-favoured with 
us, and shares at best but the fate of the good man, 
who is suspected of evil for being found in evil eom- 
pany. The vices, crimes, and cruelties of a success- 
ful leader of an army are merged in the glory of 
victory, and seem often to lose their character in our 


view, so dimly do we perceive the spots that ee ae 


a _the objects of our admiration. Soon as we rise in 
Ps life, like plants starting from the earth and expand- 


Ye ik ing their leaves to the glare of the sun, we begin to 


= j 9 


172 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
_ 


lend our feelings to influences and opinions, which 
maust often be evil where what is evil, so often pre- 
vails and is approved. Intimately and variously 
associated as we are with evil opinions and practices 
in others, which, on account of cur partialities, or 
for the seeming virtues with which they are con- 
nected, appear scarcely to be evil, it would be strange, 
when our making evil ours, or our loving it, dimi- 
nishes the sense of its vileness, if we did not become 
so allied to evil, as to lose the ability of perceiving 
justly what is good. That we do acquire this dis- 
ability, in some degree and by some process, appears 
to be the consent of mankind. So universal is the 
influence of our interests and partialities on our 
judgment of the character and conduct of others, 
that some recognition of it is made in legal enact- 
ments, and in all courts of justice. The presence of 
this influence is spontaneously acknowledged in all 
the relations and intercourse of life. We expect to 
see men’s prejudices, corruptions, and interests com- 
; ing out in likes and dislikes, and creating or effacing 
blemishes in the character of all around them. The 
greatest and the best of men are subject to this in- 
firmity, this ill eclipse of the lights within them; and 
we need not here repeat that ignorance, self-suffi- 
ciency, selfishness, pride, and envy, (forms all in 


which our cherished depravity lodges itself, and 


ronuneg INFIDELITY: 173 


works wonders not readily known to us,) bring 
darkness into the mind, and render us specially lia- 
ble to error and partiality in our judgment of others 
as well as of ourselves. Now the pertinent ques- 
tion is, whether our spiritual relations and interests, 
our various passions and corruptions, will be less 
likely- to sully our perceptions, and deprave our 
judgment of the moral perfections of God? Can 
we sanely conclude, that as an object of contempla- 
tion he is the exception to the general law, lying 
without the sphere of that influence which we have 
seen darkening our understandings, plaguing our 
hearts with false interests and hopes, deceiving us 
in our opinions of our own qualities and virtues, and 
dropping its images on every object we behold ¢ 
When we see the moral imperfections of men giving 
complexion to their judgment in analogous cases, 
shall we conclude that their conceptions will be un- 
affected by them in this the most important of all, 
the one of all others in which their conduct is ma- 
nifestly inconsistent with just convictions, and in 
which they have the greatest temptation to find 
their likeness where no likeness is? Mave we less 
to gain from discovering a semblance between our- 
selves and God, than from finding in us (as we will 
by reasonings false) goodness equal to that of any 


of our fellow creatures? Is our welfare less at 
ra 


174 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


hazard while his favour is uncertain, than when the 
petty interests of a day clash with the wishes of a 
being who is hated because he covets and takes to 
himself what we, perhaps unwisely, desire for our- 
selves? Are we less prone to hate him, or to rid 
ourselves of his displeasure by self-imaginings of a 
secret way to his pardon, when we sec his attributes, 
armed with omnipotence and arrayed against us as 
transgressors, all calling for the surrender of our 
fondest aims and delights, and proposing in their 
stead pleasures for which we have no relish, and 
pursuits to which all the growth of our life is averse? 
Is not this a plight from which all the deceits and 
powers of our nature are stirred to find a riddance, 
if not by faith and submission, certainly by shutting 
our eyes to the danger, or, what is more probable, 
by causing the danger to disappear through our 
acquired blindness to the defilement and guilt of 
sin, and a consequent inferring of his favourable 
aspect towards us? This would appear to be the 
common result, judging from the indifference of 
men who are in this condition. It may be said, 
however, that their indifference only shows that 
they see not their danger, not that they have dis- 
posed of it by this process; but this is drawing the 
difficulty back into thicker darkness, not bringing 
it out to the light. Indifference, in the case sup- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 175 


posed, is either an over-beld, a daring defiance of 
God, when the truth is fully seen—a thing most 
unlikely to be effected, and impossible to be at- 
tained; or it is the fruit of a compromise with sin, 
of mistaken views of ourselves and of God. There — 
is no middle ground: men are not without opinions 
en this subject; and if they were, it would only 
prove them blind to their own blemishes and to the 
perfections of God, which is the very thing we wish 
to bring out—their unbelief in things as they are— 
their belief in them as they are not. 

If we attempt an analysis of this state, we shall 
find no want of mental processes in it. Men do 
not accidentally fall into such easy views of their 
sinfulness as to lose all apprehension of God’s dis- 
pleasure; nor do they secretly arrogate his approba- 
tion, before undergoing a more secret process by 
which they succeed in evading the truth, and 
in possessing him with the same views of them- 
selves as they, in the vanity of their mind, esteem 


to be fitting. Not renouncing their sins, not em- 
\. 


1This brings to mind what Coleridge, in his “ Table Talk,” says 
in illustration of the pretensions of the church of Rome. “The course 
of Christianity and the Christian church may not unaptly be likened 
to a mighty river, which filled a wide channel, and bore along with 
its waters mud, and gravel, and weeds, till it met a great rock in the 
middle of its stream. By some means or other the water flows 
purely, and separated from the filth, in a deeper and narrower course 


176 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


bracing the truth in the love of it; but having the 
‘eyes of their understanding darkened’ through the 
practice of sinning—every deception, every preju- 
dice, every interest, so considered, of which our 
nature is capable, all are called to their relief-—some 
flattering their passions and_ self-delusions, some 
deriding their fears, and others inventing modes of 
escape; and it is impossible to say how far they will 
carry them, but carry them into false repose, by 
causing them to misconceive and discredit things as 
they are, we know they will. This they have 
done, and their indifference to spiritual things is the 
proof of it. They have done it too against the clear- 
est declarations of God; no ignorance of these de- 
clarations is pretended, and yet their conclusions 
fly in the face of them with a rudeness that seems 
to say that all fear, all belief of them, is gone. This 
is not an accident in their experience; it is the fruit 
of a long and varied process. First, sense indulged, 
sense predominating, sinks, debases, and enslayes 
reason, and thus impairs. its force and vigour; and 


then, sense and reason, though hardly reason any 


on one side of the rock, and the refuse of the dirt and troubled water 
goes off on the other in a broader current, and then cries out, We 
are the river.” So our corruptions, blinding our eyes, are the more 
arrogant the greater their excess; and the more complete their 
separation from the truth, the higher their tide, and the more tur- 
bid—the readier they are to cry out, ‘We are the virtues,’ 


POPULAR INFIDELITY lf 


longer, seem often to unite against faith in aiding 
our imperfect and partial views of things. 

It is very observable, from our constitution as it 
now is, that, if we could banish the fear of evil to 
come, we should never be willing to change our con- 
dition for one more spiritual and heavenly. We ap- 
pear to be made for the world, and insensibly grow 
toit. We wish for nothing better; and if the nearness 
and certainty of death did not check our fondness, we 
could be quite drowned in the pleasure of having an 
eternity here. We can be amused and pleased with 
the veriest trifles that have a respect to the present 
world; yet we cannot be entertained, cannot keep 
from wearying, while we are confined to hear only 
of God, and of the provision he has made for us in 
eternity. If God would let us alone, and not dis- 
turb our enjoyment, we would think of nothing 
more. We prefer heaven, indeed, to hell, because 
we have heard this last is a place of torment; but 
could we have our wishes, we would prefer to re- 
main where we are. And so long as we continue 
of this mind, eternal life will be neglected, with all 
that belongs to it. We shall have no gratitude for 
a Saviour’s compassion, we shall feel no attractives 
to be with him, we shall resent his cross, the gospel 
will be ‘foolishness’ to us; and when our duty is 


proposed, we shail feel that we are called to make a 


ie 


178", ae POPULAR INFIDELITY. eae 
x “ 


great sa £Stice ; the whole interest of our nature will vn 
be stirr ed to” to resistance; and if we neglect it, it will :” a 
not be by ehanes. it will not be turned off bow af we 


i ven ae a rite and persuade Gubschees moré hat the 
ss danger, not so great a ny would have it conside Po . 
ed, will 1 not be cacresaiibea ) r continued devotion 
to objects proper to our F present. enjoyment, and even 
i es necessary to it by the will of the Creaiggy, * sie 


a. there is, as we will thas ee in our 


“8 them to be right as they Pee to our duty, > 
l infers our safety in this or that course from our | 
» desire As pursue it. Yet so it is,—things appear quite” 
~ rational that are greatly pleasing and desirable to us. 
But this our contentedness with the world, when the 
world. goes well, together with our aversion to spi- 
_ ritual’ and eternal things, which is so great that we 
will not look to them, will not seek them, when we 
have nothing considerable, nothing satisfying, to 
enjoy or hope for from the world, yea often, when 
sin revives and turns all our feelings and remem- 
brar into one great canker of guilt and dissatige 
' faction, constitutes a strong ground for ; selring 
that, when we have much of the world to er and 
more of it to hope for, when the sense of our-sins is 


Me 


. Tae i Me | is 
ita . 7 ; “ - 3 ¥ 
3 Pa _ ahs 


“* rod - ¢ ; P c y 


n 


a mi * 4 : 
% ” . POPULAR INFIDELITY. ~ Jes | 179 © 
merged in the love of them and of ourselves, and spi- 


ritual things are not less disrelished, we shall find it 
x Bs anid avert the glare e truth, and give a favourable 


i es with infidelity: i would be the sgecinetst 
| proof we could give, that we do not take God at oo 
word, and do not credit 1 things as they are; for it. ie 
appropriating his fayour, and taking for granted our 
ae calcite 


dos ness 


not innocence, when our sins and worldli- 


: t the flood. Our preference presi ip: : 


i 


a See 


( 0 not perceive his superior excellen¢ e, « 
~ perceiving, do not relish it; and our want off S oli ci - 
tude, while we have not complied with the cond e 

iiins of his favour, shows we have a way of our % 


: ¢ own to his regard, and are, it may be, attributing to 
him the blemishes of our own character, which ap- 

: pear to us not to be blemishes, because they are our i 
own, or which appear to be very innocent defects, — 
because it is our interest and pleasure to have them 
so considered. This is the ground of our security ; 
and, let it be noted, it is as propitious to the claims 
of our faith as any other which can be supposed; for 
we must either admit this view of our case, or we 
must pretend that we have just conceptions of the 
character of God and of ourselves, and if we pretend 


the latter, while we depart not from iniquity and 
4 ; ae “y 
a 


en 
= 


x 


180. POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


seek not his favour, our conduct is witness we neither 
esteem his character nor value his favour; and what is 
it, not to esteem his charaeter, but to be blind to it, or 
to think it worse than our own, which we do esteem? 
what is it, not to value his favour, but to prefer the 
pleasures of sin to it, to change his truth into a lie, 
and his glory into an image not his own, but ours? 
When the depravity of our nature centres in one 
particular direction, or when it shows itself in any 
ruling passion, it is wonderful how readily we ap- 
prove it in this character, and how acceptable it is 
to us in this, while in most other forms it may be 
odious. The reason of this seems to be the diffi- 
culty of seeing our own defects, and especially of 
seeing them as defects, or marks which distinguish 
us, when they have outgrown all adverse feelings, 
and become, as it were, the whole of our nature.! 


' Our capacity for being swayed and moulded either by a good or 
evil principle or passion is as philosophically as beautifully expressed 
im the following lines :— 

te A "Foy-bewitch’d, 

| ade blind by lusts, disherited of soul, 

No common centre man, no common sire 
Knoweth ! A sordid, solitary thing, 

’*Mid countless brethren, with a lonely heart, 
Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams, 
Feeling himself, his own low self, the whole ; 
When he by sacred sympathy might make 
The whole one set¥! seExr, that no alien knows! 
Self, spreading still! Oblivious of its own, 
Yet all of all possessing ! 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 181 


At first sight, it might appear difficult to under- 
stand how we can be so grossly imposed upon in a 
point, which we are capable of knowing so much 
better than others; but it will not appear so, if we 
reflect that we are deceived in judging of ourselves, 
just as we are in judging of other things, when our 
passions, prejudices, and inclinations are called in as 
dictators, and we suffer ourselves to see and be con- 
vinced just so far and no farther than they give us 

leave. They make it hard for us to pass an equi- 
table judgment in matters where our interests are 
concerned, disposing us, when there happen to be 
strong appearances against the justice of the course 
to which we incline, to put favourable constructions 
upon them, and even sometimes, when the probing 
of interest is deepest, to assign and think we find 
the best and most convincing reasons where no reason 
can be seen by others. But the deceit is still stronger 
with us, and we much poorer casuists, when we come 
to judge of ourselves, the dearest of all parties; when 
the question is, what condemnation shall we. pass 
on ourselves, or allow others to pass:—this is the 
labour—this the matter in which it is not human 
to see the light, when so much darkness is coveted; 
not possible to be severe, when there is such an in- 
stinct, such an impulse to be kind and partial, or to 


efface, for the time, all the tender impressions, with 
16 ¢ 


sii 


oa sil , 
: * i 
. 


182 POPULAR INFIDELITY. ? 
¥ , 


which we find so much reason to be « contented, and 
which have disabled us so long, from thinking justly 

of ourselves, ‘that, thinking wrongly, has come to be 
with us, the soundest, as well as the most. agreeable 
thinking we have. Hence it is we every day see 
men guilty of vicious and dishonest actions, who yet 
reflect so little, or so partially upon what thet, nage 
done, that their consciences seem to be'free from * 
guilt, or the remotest suspicion, that ees are what * 


' the tenor and. evidence of their life show they are. 
. They see what no one else sees, some secret and flat- 


% 


tering circumstances in’ their favour, which make a eal 


| great difference between their own case and that of. 
| other delinquents. Of the many false, revengeful, 
| covetous, wicious, and, if it please, stupid persons, 
which abound in the world, there is not one that . 
| singles out himself as guilty, or that would not think | 
it a slander to have any of his partiev ar crimes Or 

_ weaknesses, laid to his blige It may be they join 


in a-cry against sin, in every other form but that hy a 


C Filer a 


which it prevails in their own practice, or that: this 
form of it is hated in others, while, in themselves, it 


\ appears the more devoid of aggravation and turpi- al 
"tude, the greater the excess to which it is carried. 


No one is competent to describe the many absurd 
and palpable deceits and cheats, into which the un- 
derstanding is betrayed by the sins that habitually 


i . 


t 


r. 


2 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 183 


“beset 1 us; to trace the several turnings and windings 
of an evil heart, and detect it through all the glosses, 
_ shapes, and appearances, which it assumes; but none 
is more gross and common, than our failing to per- 
ceive the evil of any sinful temper or indulgence, 
when our practice, our fondness therein, has trans- 
ported it toa passion. We cannot but be convinced 
i is60, ifwe will look on what is passing around us, 
allt if we wil look into our hearts and observe 
_ how actions “9 there, how those which strong 
inclination prompts us to commit, and. custom has 
“made ours, something as our breathing is, are dressed 
out, as for public appearance, in all the gloss and cha- 
“ Sracter which a flattering hand can give them; while 
others, to which we feel no propensity, though per- 
_ haps not so bad in themselves, find no “quarter from 


sites: us, or We ot appear deformed | nd naked, with all the 


te. 


proofs of folly. and viciousnes stamped upon them. 


athe man who lives for pleasure, though a most use- 


ve ess body, cares not that he is useless, yea, worse than 


useless —knows no happiness but what is seated in his 
‘senses, stupid and overgrown with sense—and sees no 
harm, himself miserably harmless, in the indulgence 
and gratification of appetites, which, in his reasoning 
moods, he concludes were given him only for that 
end. He lives unto himself, yet stoutly despises others 
who live so in pursuance of different ends, and grows 


Ms, 


184 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


perhaps virtuous in his own estimation, through a 
propensity to congratulate himself on his freedom 
from their defects, when he owes this exemption to 
a fulness of iniquity that is running over, and can 
therefore make no room for more. He who makes it 
his object to gain character and consequence, to esta- 
blish the fortune and raise the name of his family, 
though his object be higher and worthier of your 
praise, runs an equal distance from God, bends 
his great soul, if you will call it so, to a god of 
his own, that is unspeakably below himself, and 
pays his devotions with a diligence which, rightly 
directed, would be more than sufficient to make 
his calling sure to ‘the inheritance of all things.’ 
In prosecution of what he prizes more than ‘all,’ 
and therefore in derogation of ‘all,’ he promises 
himself contentment with only a portion of ‘that 
which satisfieth not?—he studies, contrives, rises 
early, goes late to rest, and ‘eats the bread of 
carefulness;? he builds up and pulls down again, 
levels mountains and raises up valleys, turns rivers 
into dry ground and dry ground into rivers, all the 
while ready to pity or condemn those who pursue 
other designs, but acknowledging God in nothing, and 
in nothing disapproving of himself. It is the same 
with the proud, the ambitious, the self-conceited, and 


many other very common characters in life. They 


¢ 


“4 
FOPULAR INFIDELITY. 185 


eannot bear their likeness in others; in themselves, 
when tl eir infirmity or viciousness runs to a passion, 
it is faultless. They have reasons to show it so. 
The purely selfish man doubts, when you tell him 
these are better motives than those which actuate 
his own mind. He considers the sacrifice of his 
neighbour for the good of others, was prompted by 
the same motive, which induced him to withhold his 
ewn bounty, the promotion of his individual interest, 
and that, if there be a difference in their characters, 
his own is the more worthy, because he has not 
attempted te cover his designs, or to win favour 
with the paint of benevolence. The miser decries 
prodigality, intemperance, and sensuality —vices 
from which he has been preserved by the love of 
money. If you persuade him to assist the needy, 
when he reflects upon it, though it may be the best 
deed of his life, he will be angry with himself, for 
having yielded to your solicitation; if you talk to 
him of the pleasures of beneficence, he will under- 
stand as little as the blind man would of colours he 
had never seen. Now, what idea will men of this 
description naturally form of God? What is there 
in the humility, the self-denial, the benevolence, 
which he deems essential to the glory of our nature, 
that would reconcile them to just conceptions of his 


character, or permit them to feel complacency in his 


16* 
? 


Bice 


186 FOPULAR INFIDELITY.. 


will? They must either renounce themselves, or 
renounce God, if they cannot, through self-flattery, 
change him into what he is not, and make him (as 
they do the conduct of others) accord with the do- 
minant principles of their own character. It is not 
difficult to imagine which they will do. There is, in 
their peculiar passion, an overgrowth which will bear 
no competition, and when pressed to an extremity, 
it will discharge itself in implacable hate to any 
thing of a contrary nature. They will, therefore, 
find it much easier to believe they are in favour with 
God, to reason themselves bright and acceptable be- 
- fore him, than to welcome sentiments which set. at 


naught all that they have ever done, and all that they 


have grown fond and perverse in thinking of them- 
selves. While they remain unchanged, they might, 
_without violence to nature, adopt the language given 
to mightier, perhaps not to more self-complacent, 


spirits: — 


“ What place can be for us 
Within heaven’s bound, unless heaven’s Lord supreme 
We overpower? Suppose he should relent. 

aia riatinie sae wise oii With what eyes could we 

Stand in his presence humble, and receive 

Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne 

With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 
Beorced ‘Ihableltr pains 2 so 00's o's jo Ve sis So. sio.e es $4 

De ken bn vcio'a a eseeeee his must be our task 

In heaven, this our delight ; how wearisome 
Eternity so spent, in worship paid 

To whom we hate !” 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 187 


If it be in accordance with the prevailing taste, 
the strongest growth of individuals, to have such 
views of heaven and of its worship, we may con- 
clude that all men will cherish views of these and 
of like objects, bearing a clear analogy to the varie- 
ties of their own character, and, of course, delusive 
and unworthy. 

There are other and very different cases, in which 
our judgment is carried by habit and association, 
which may serve to illustrate the same truth. He, 
who conforms not to a prevailing fashion, though he 
conforms to one, once equally approved by those 
who are now offended with his singularity, will 
soon be thought destitute of common taste and judg- 
ment, so great is the influence of association over 
our sense of propriety and elegance. A vice, also, 
which is detested by a man at one time, so often 
prevails in his subsequent life, without exciting his 
shame or remorse, that we are ready to say vice 
needs only to be practised to be approved; and in- 
deed this result is often seen in the changes which 
occur in the character of large communities. Na- 
tions, as well as individuals, differ from each other 
in nothing, more than in their shame or approbation 
of vices and practices, which the Scriptures and 
right reason abundantly condemn. If fashion and 


practice in dress, in manners, and in vices, operate 


Be. 
188 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


in this manner upon our tastes and decisions, why 
may not they or similar causes—the obliquities and 
peculiarities of our own character—bewilder and 
pervert our judgment of moral qualities, when we 
look at them as existing in the character of God? 
Light enough would burst on this subject, if we 
should open the history of our race, and see what 
wild and discordant opinions have been entertained, 


what wretched ignorance of most evident, and what 


1<Tn one of the lunatic asylums of France, there is a maniac who 
is labouring under an interesting delusion. His serious impression 
is, that he was beheaded during the revolution, and that another per- 
son’s head has been substituted for his own! Hypochondriacs have 
ere now fancied themselves hand-organs, articles of household furni- 
ture, or steam-engines—to say nothing of beasts, birds, and reptiles. 
Some have imagined themselves to be frogs imbedded in stone; 
others that they were sheets of glass, and would break to pieces 
(being cracked) if they attempted to move. These are extreme 
cases; but that of the guillotined maniac applies, with some small 
variation, to a far larger class of persons than may be supposed. 
To meet a man on the outside of a lunatic asylum, who believes 
that he has another person’s head on his shoulders, is any thing but 
uncommon. How many of our ode writers have believed that they 
were severally possessed of the head of Pindar? Where is the ora- 
tor who hesitates to point to his own individual caput as the head 
of Demosthenes? Scott’s head is on a dozen pair of shoulders at 
least; and there is more than one writer living who can boast of 
the identical head of Milton. We are daily introduced to illustrious 
members of the family of the Wrongheads, who have never yet been 
inside a lunatic asylum.” The writer (unknown to us) might have 
continued, that the vanity, selfism, or what not, which prompts so 
many to fancy they have the heads of others, would as easily appro- 
priate their hearts, and as convincingly, with sufficient motive, dis- 
cover their likeness to great virtue as to great genius. 


a 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 189 


ready belief of most absurd, principles in religion 
and morals, men have disclosed, who were even 
knowing and learned in many respects, but untaught 
of God in these. | 

Our own heart is a garden where all that is whole- 
some and delightful has claim to grow, but a garden 
now turned toa heath; it is a fountain where all 
knowledge springs, but a fountain which our cor- 
ruptions have sealed up; it is a book, once plain and : 
legible, but a book now so interlined with the inser- 
tion of our good works, and defaced with the erasure 
of our misdeeds, that we cannot read our own his- 
tory in it, though it be as one written with our own 
hand. It has come to be reason enough for us, that 
we are good, if we be not ‘as this publican,’ if we 
keep ‘clean the outside of the cup and platter,’ if 
we ‘outwardly appear righteous unto men,’ though 
within we be ‘full of hypocrisy and iniquity.’ 
Though we be already on the lowgrounds of de- 
generacy, and choose to remain there, yet if we be 
raised as molehills above the common level, we 
become dizzy with our mountain bulk and height, 
and all glory seems to rise and set on us, reaching 
not to the depth below. It is our elevation that 
charms us so: it may be but a cold and barren one; 
lower places may indeed be blooming and teeming 
with the loveliest flowers and the choicest fruits; 


s 


190 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


still it is enough for our glorying that they ais the 
lowlands, and that we are the heights. But though 


we are so easily deceived, 60 patiently ignorant of 


oe ¢ 
e 


ourselves, and so inapt to take instruction directly 
from our own hearts; still we may discern, if we 
will not own, the features of our nature in the con- 
duct of others. Facts in human practice, when con- 
sidered in their origin and effects, when viewed as 
reaching before and after, have a relationship to us 


which we cannot deny, and assume the dignity of 


rv 
the truest ‘philosophy, teaching by example.’ The : 
” 


instruction thus imparted seems to come to us on 
our own authority; we yield to it with something 
of the grace, not to say elation, with which we re- 
ceive the respect that is shown to ourselves, Facts, 
standing out and staring on us in every direction, 
evince that we are liable to the grossest error in our 


estimate of moral qualities, and that the great bent 


of our nature is to ascribe our likeness, or nothing 
better, to other beings, be our character what it may. 
Changes for worse are going on in the moral and 
religious sentiments of men, and no thought is taken 
of it, and no depreciation is felt. They are quickly 
at a distance from the goodness, if goodness it be 
called that was none, which caused them to look 
with horror on practices they now adopt and ap- 
prove. The same is true of churches, neighbour- 


H 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 191 


ods, _and governments. Their degeneracy does 


eat come in like a flood, bearing away at once all 


| established opinions; _ ‘but it steals its way along, 


showing no front that shocks the better sense, giving 
motion to the still waters of pride and self-confi- 
dence, loosing slowly the joints and pins of faith, 


raising differences to be made up by a compromise 


_of better convictions, yet holding itself distant, till 


t 


| 


jall is done without exciting dangerous alarms; so 


that, when men think themselves quite as good as 
ever, a new and evil order of things is in vogue; 
religion has her temples and followers yet, but her 
_ Spiritual songs and devotions have nearly died away, 
the live coals on her altars are going out, and the 


worshippers are fancying themselves in a good con- 
dition, if they offer to God but the actions of what 
_is now, though it was not lately so, an ordinary and 


moral life, without the scandal and alloys of a great 


ie fe 


impiety. When the true fervour and spirit of reli- 


\ gion are thus lost, and its hopes still retained, no 


wonder that men bring to it their ‘ mint, anise, and 
cummin,’ and stoutly defend its carnal ceremonies, 
high masses, and absolutions; for it is much easier 
to put in pretensions to holiness upon such a me- 
chanical system as is left of it, than where the cha- 
racter is only to be got and maintained by a painful 


conflict with ourselves, a patient submission of our 


an ’ 


ae 
ee POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


wills to a service, which is as difficult as improving 
to our nature, because it improves only when it 
crosses and changes it. The current of our nature 
runs from the Creator: it may be clogged and di- 
rected this and the other way by our own creations, 
but never can be turned back by them. We may 
inflict wounds and pains upon ourselves, but we 
shall not find it so easy to excite a holy love to ob- 
jects that are disagreeable to our hearts. We may 
daily cross ourselves with the hand, and count our 
beads; but nature will resent the task of daily num- 
bering our sins, and crossing our fond desires. We 
may offer phe sacrifice of bulls -and rams, starve our 
bodies, or give them to the flames; but we shall find 
it more difficult to offer up our spirits as in dust and 
ashes to God; more difficult a great deal to give 
him in sacrifice ‘the works of the flesh,’ the lusts 
of pride, anger, intemperance, and revenge. We 
may wash and swim in holy water, and receive at 
the confessional absolution on absolution; but to 
live so as to find it through grace, not at the hands 
of men, but at the hands of God ; to gain an unction 


_from on high—this is the great achievement. So 


strong is the propensity in our nature to sense and 
self-reliance, that the understanding is unequal for 
preserving a just self-estimation, and no match for 
the impression of outward things: there may be the 


£ 


| a 
Et 


AP &. ur 
oo POPULAR INFIDEDITE: . ~ 1s 


greatest propriety and purity in things of this na- 
ture, nothing retained in our worship but what, 
duly considered, would excite and assist’ it; still 
this propensity, if unchecked, will show itself in a 
disposition to thank God that we are not ‘ag other 
men,’ dreamers, bigots, or extortioners; while we 
are perhaps relying on external rites, ‘straining at 
nee and swallowing camels,’ keeping up appear- 
“ances when reality is® gone, ‘and contenting our- 
selves with shadows when we might have substance. 

Looking to these changes, to the secret processes 
of them, and to their effects in depraving the judg- 
ment, it would be a singular stupidity ings not to 
see that there is no security for the correctness of 

our moral sentiments, but in the grace of God,-and 
that we are liable, as others, to be turned an e- 
luded ‘after the same example of unbelief” When, 
therefore, we aspire to know God, or to know our- 
selves, we shall but grow in the confidence of i igno- 
rance, unless we first empty ourselves‘of all vain 
conceits, and our hearts be fully convinced of our 
own vileness, yea, nothingness, in his sight. If we 
bring into our service high thoughts of ourselves, 
we shall have low thoughts. of God; if we turn our: 
desires and fondnesses into judges, peor. will clear 

the guilty. ed 

* 17 


4 


194. «& POPULAR INFIDELITY. — - Re 
He that ‘builds his house upon the i. 377, that 


‘walketh in darkness;”? that ‘ knoweth not the way 
into the city;’? that ‘hath said in his heart, There 
is no God,’* the Scriptures style a ‘fool,’..a man 
whose corruptions have rendered him void of un-, 
derstanding in sacred things, and hence*the felicity 
of that expression of Solomon, ‘the wickedness of 
folly, even of foolishness.’* On subjects purely in- 
tellectual men have had the absurdest notions, and 
the very excess of their absurdity has rendered © 
them tenacious of their truth, for the greater the 
error, the more unwelcome is the exposure of it; 
but we should never believe, if we did not know, 
they could be so far forsaken of their reason, yet 
haying so much impression of the existence and 
power of a Deity, as to fall down in his worship 
before stocks and stones which their own hands had 
carved, to read their fortunes in the stars, yea, even 
in the palms of their hands, and to guide their enter- 
prises by the auguries of a providence made known 
by the flight, the posture, or the singing of birds. 


How absurdly, indeed, has: man’s sentiment of a 


Deity been Basie The annals of idolatry and ee 


polytheism, wit all their teaching, teach that there 


2 Eccl. i. 14. 3 Tb. x. 15. 


5 BKecl. vil. 25. 
- 


% 
> %. 


a 


* 


“sys POPULAR INFIDELITY. 4 195 


isa true God, and that the tendency of our nature is 


%, 
a 
fs 


4 ¥* 
* 


to bring him down and fashion him as one of our- 
selves. Some degree of religious belief has de- 
scended through all the: generations of men, with 


modifications as various as their character and con- 


dition. It is not that they believe nothing, but that 
they believe not the truth, which, constitutes their 
idolatry—for something, it seems, they will believe; 
they will have a futurity, rewards and punishments, 


~ a providence; but they all-bear stamps of their own 


oe cae 


creation, and show a carving and moulding to hu- 
man tastes. 

Now it matters not. to the nature of idolatry, 
which as to the true God is but another name for 
infidelity, whether men make images and bow down 
to them, or entertain notions of God which repre- 
sent him to the mind without his perfections—such 
in any respect as he is not, such as they are, such as 
any thing is; for we but debase him by our loftiest 
comparisons—there is nothing ‘like unto the Lord 
our God, who humbleth himself to behold the things 
that are in heaven and in the earth.”! Our idols 
may be ‘without form, and void;’ we may not call 


them AR ee but Bich and that | as _ spiritual being; 


Psalm exiii. 5, 6. 


196 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


eries there is and can be no peace in our way of 
seeking it, what elevation can our faith and devo- 
tion give us? what better do we than they who wor- 
ship gods of their own hands? They choose a 
more painful service, one less indulgent to.nature ; 
we rest our safety on no difficult conditions, incur 


no expense to our desires, and have the matter laid 
oct taste at once. 


It is clearly observable there is that in our nature 
which has ‘sought out many. inventions,’? which 
will hew out to itself ‘cisterns,’ and rest in them, 
though they be ‘broken,’ and ‘ can hold no water,’? 
will ‘climb up some other way,’ will do any, thing 
to gain its end; but how to find rest in Christ, it has 
no understanding, nor will have any; it labours or 
rests according to its own provisions, but never 
comes to the truth, nor will come, because it ‘ seeks 
it not by faith, but as it were by works’4—verifying 
by all its devices the words, ‘ Behold, I lay in Zion 
a stumbling-stone and rock of offence.? Within the 
circle we thus draw for ourselves, we too often run 
the race of life, try all experiments, and sit down at 
last, wearied and empty—in utter despair of suc- 
cess—having nothing to trust to, nor knowing where 
to lay the fault, whether in the incapacity of our 
nature, or the insufficiency of the provisions of the 

1 Bech. ix. 29. ? Jer. i, 13. 3John x. 1. 4Rom. ix. 32, 33. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 197 


Creitok: We think we have done well—done what 
we could—but our foundation fails, dread darkness 
covers the future, and we know not which way to 
turn or where to betake ‘ourselves for refuge. We 
trust to any thing before Christ, or trust him blindly 
now for want of other trusts, drop dead for his arms, 
when dropping we can catch on nothing else, and 


take him, when we have not the sense that y 


him—a choice of evils. What so hard to beli ieve 
or do, as that which turns our wisdom to foolish- 
ness, and brings us learners at the foot of the cross? 
What so thwarts our unconsidering humour as to be 
shut up to self-loathing, and left to utter dependence 
on the grace of others? What shifts we make of it! 
What colours fancy on us, and what smiles provoke, 
to rid ourselves of fear! Our many-formed unbe- 
lief—stout of heart and witty of invention—drives out 
the conviction here and there, discharges the cloud, 
and brings on the light and calm again. In every 
form it takes, it has our features, and its reasonings 
all a tincture of our virtues. No wonder men often 
find their self-sufficiency a greater trouble than their 
sins, and take the truths of God easier than the sur- 
-feits of his bounty—their faith has put them to 
sleep. They fancy him to be, if not ‘altogether 
such a one as themselves,’? yet such as makes them 


1 Psalm 1. 21, 
17% 


% 
198 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


think ‘they were in great fear, where no fear was.’? 
And if we would largely consider this tendency of 
our nature, it might lead us to discover the causes of 
our indifference to the truths of divine revelation. 
That we have an indifference, which appears won- 
derful, and unlike any thing else in human practice, 
when contrasted with the weight and interest of 
what is revealed—that we. have this tendency to 
invest all the beings of our contemplation with our 
own qualities—both are truths which we do but 
prove by being blind to them, and which, if they 
may not claim our assent that they are revealed, 
may claim it at least that they are supported by the 
most convincing evidence of analogy. Whence is it 
that the Ethiopians, when they would paint their 
gods in the highest style of beauty, colour them 
black, if not because it is their own complexion? 
Whence the character ascribed by impostors and 
idolaters to their deities, if not from the principle 
of transferring their own ‘qualities to the objects of 
their worship?) Whence the sensual paradises and 
Elysian fields which these deities are to provide for 
their votaries, if the former are not supposed to 
approve of those sensual gratifications which are the 
chief delight of the latter, and which, therefore, 
they imagine to be the appropriate reward of their 


1 Psalm liti. 5. 


fy 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 199 


service? Whence is it that they are generally sup- 
posed to be capricious, revengeful, the protectresses 
of thieves and impostors, or the encouragers of de- 
structive passions, if there be not a tendency in us 
to conceive all beings like ourselves, and to trans- 
fer to the invisible agent, which we worship as 
God, those qualities with which we are familiarly 
acquainted, or those of which we are intimately 
conscious? Whence is it that many, on whom 
the true light shines, think themselves. so moral 
in their practice as not to need an atonement, 
and find it so difficult to believe in a pure and spi- 
ritual religion which requires them to ‘look at 
things not seen,’ if they have not too low concep- 
tions of the nature of sin and holiness, to have any 
relish for a religion which does not approve and 
reward their virtues, or to think it credible that 
beings so inoffensive as they should ever find aught 
but smiles of favour in the face of Him who made 
them?- Whence is it that others can rely on the 
atonement for pardon and salvation, without any re- 
novation of their nature, if they are not so in love 
with their lusts and vices, that they have lost the sense 
of their guilt, and the fear that they are displeasing 
to God? Whence is it, if not on this ground, that 
they can count on fulness of joy in his presence, 
without a change of those dispositions which create 


‘_ : 
200 POPULAR ke 
rt ‘A 


a disrelish for his worship here? ane de isit we» * 
so often see men, who profess to believe the word 

of God, dissatisfied with plain and uncompromising 
i its truth, if sin has not wrought a 
pronen ss in our nature to narrow the breadth of its | 
commandments, and to make them wink and con- 4 
nive at our cherished imperfections? Whence is it 
we so often sce delinquents lull their remorse by ~ | 
making allowances for the strength of temptation, 

and by considering examples of similar delinquency 

in the life of others, not repenting or entertaining ©. 
the design of their duty, if there be not something 

in the very alarms of guilty men which drives them 

“to means of justification, and so, if may be, to put 

out the fire which burns and lightens in their spi- 

rits, without removing the materials by which it was 
enkindled? Whence the blindness to moral colours ae: 
‘and the stupidity’ which we see to be the unfailing 
concomitants of great viciousness of life, if there be 

not something in the practice of iniquity that tends 

to extinguish the sense of its odiousness, and to fill 

the sinner’s mind with dreams of security and ac- 

: just when his danger is greatest? Whence 


> 


do we see men devoid of religion so prone to judge 
of the excellency of its precepts, and of its Author, 
from the defects of those who profess to be influ- 
enced by it, as if water from a polluted stream suited 


* oS . , 
- 


ye POPULAR INFIDELITY. 201 


f be a taste better than that of a pure fountain, as if 


> 
ws 


light, because their deeds are evil’ ? 


y could discern the character of a distant object 
better in twilight than in the blaze of noon, or their 
reason directed them into swamps and marshes to 
determine the true and healthful properties of springs 
that issue in perpetual clearness, sweetness, and 
abundance from the heights around them? Whence 
this very ominous propensity, if they would not 
weigh ‘themselves i in ‘unjust balances,’ if there be 
not too much brightness in the sun for their unprac- 
” tised eyes, if they ‘love not darkness rather than 

_ It is plain from these and similar examples that men 
are liable to the greatest delusion in their estimate of 


their own qualities, and that the same causes operate” 


» delude them in their judgment of others. It is also 


plain that the chief cause of this delusion, i in what . 


measure so ever it exists, 1S sin. It renders us very 
incompetent judges of the excellence of any being 
with whom it is our interest to be found in likeness, 
and this incompetence will be greater or smaller as’ 


we are more or less depraved.1 This -~ principle 


1 “Tt is the soul’s prerogative, its fate 
To change all outward things to its own state: 
If right itself, then all without is well ; 
If wrong, it makes of all around a hell. 
So multiplies the soul its joy or pain, 
Gives out itself, itself takes back again.” 


~ 


* i: 
202 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


granted, let it once be clearly seen that_ our moral 
character spreads itself through our perceptions, and 
controls our judgment of the character of others, and 
it will result that we may be infidels, as to the real 
truth and character of God, when we think ourselves 
very fair believers. Very fair believers then we 
may be, yet believing nothing as it is, nothing as 
adapted to awaken the conscience and improve the 
heart, but much that is contrary to all good effect. 
We suppose this to be the state of secular men gene- 
rally. We think it the origin of their indifference 
to religion; of their worldliness in a world that lies 
so near eternity, and has so much of its influence 
expended in it; of their wretched misconception of, 
and hostility to,-doctrines which cross their nature, 
and presuppose in them a repugnance to what is 
good. Theirs is, therefore, a Siete which 
they are not acquainted, and which they cannot cre- 
sdit until a revolution takes alack, both in themselves 
and in their oldest and fondest: ‘associations and 
hopes. As unsuspected, and as Speiting in this 


manner, it is the basis of popular infidelity. ANG Ps 


sO” considering it, we! shall have, perhaps, a better 
understanding of. our difficulty, and. of our Seepedy. 


7 


‘ 
* 


bad 


This view, certainly, accords with our experience ang 


and observation. Human depravity, modified a 
restrained as it may be, drives directly to this reaule™ 


a 
> 


‘ 


ag 
Bagot 


Steals 
Sa and have only a creed of errors? It may pre- 


: 
i 


: ‘ 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 203 


So long as we are without proper views. of sin in 
ourselves, we see not but this must be the case. We 
may change in outward actions; we may have legal 
convictions; the terrors of the Lord may make us 
afraid; but till the Spirit lays the rule of truth to our 
actions, and ‘takes of the things of Jesus Christ’ and 
shows. them to us,—till the commandment revives 
and we die,—we shall know nothing as we ought 
to know; we shall not know our weakness and de- 
pendence; we shall not see what an ‘evil and bit- 
ter thing’ sin is; we shall discover nothing faulty in 
our vain attempts to wash it away. We may have 
fears from its guilt, but we shall have no: shame from 
its defilement. All our thoughts about it will be 
thoughts of unbelief—motions for a compromise with 
the truth. We see not how any view of sin, or of 
our Copa tious that does not humble us, cause us to 
take side with God against ourselves, and bring us 
all-nothing- -worth: and thankful to Christ, can of 
itself be entitled t to a better name than infidelity. It 
cannot comprehend the truth; it procures ’a peace 
ie: is. contrary to it,. andy obstructs its access to 
the mind. What more can infidelity do? It would 
not leave us to think we step beliévers: But what 

es it to think so, if we believe not. the 


vent our seeing that we hang invair, but can yield us 


204 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


no support. In either case, it is a want of correct 
views of truth that does the mischief. We see no- 
thing but this to hinder our embracing the truth in 
the love of it, as a man will betimes and thankfully 
fly for safety, when he sees his danger. The more 
general impression with us is, that we ‘see things 
straight and right enough, but a want of will or 
power keeps us back. But we do not take this to 
be a true statement of our case. We see nothing 
right and fully, and a want of such seeing keeps us 
where we are; that is, we do not take God at his 
word; we let our nature interpret things for us; we 
cook and season them to our relish, and then think, 
if the effect is not adequate, the fault is not in us,— 
not at least in our want of accuracy. Did we see 
: the whole truth, see sin as a most abominable thing, 
hated of God, and. hateful in itself, see ourselves, 
‘led by foolish and hurtful lusts,’ weak, erring, 
knowing little, and not able to know much, we 
: should see wisdom in what we now call ‘ the foolish- 
ness of God;’ we should abhor ourselves, and repent 
in dust and ashes; things, which we had only heard 
of ‘and thought about before, we should see and 
know, and we should, without thought of any in- 
| vention, gladly repair to the ‘fountain set ‘open for 
sin and uncleanness.’! Nothing can be truer than 


1 Compare this with what Job says, chap. xlii, 3—7. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 205 


the deficiency of the sinner’s views of truth, espe- 
cially the deficiency of his views of the nature of 
sin, and of his own sinfulness; and as this is a suffi- 
cient, a rational explanation of his indifference, we 
need look no farther. It would be well to stop on 
this in the full conviction that we are deluded; that 
we do not see things as they are, do not- know our- 
selyes, and can do nothing as of ourselves.. This 
would be so far.a right understanding, and might 
lead on to right action: but no—we will not receive 
truths so deeply wounding and offensive: to our 
humour... We are not ‘undone’ yet; we do not be- 
lieve God when he says; ‘ Thou hast destroyed thy- 
self, but in me is thy help.’+ O no—this is not our 
condition. We can help ourselves yet, can improve 
a little, can do “works without the grace of Christ,’ 
which will make us more worthy of the favour of 
God. We have not truth enough. in the mind to 
bring us to Christ, but just enough to make that dis- 
agreeable to us, and to put us upon a task-religion, a 
faithless service, (faithless as to God’s word,) whereby 
we stifle our apprehensions of guilt and danger. AIl 
' these are attempts to patch up a righteousness of our 
own, and indicate, not faith in the gospel, but a de- 
sire to ‘climb up some other way,’ to bring a ‘ price 
for life;? to evade the punishment, without abandon- 


; 1 Hos. xiii. 9 


18 


206 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


ing the practice of sin. They all suppose the belief 
of some native goodness in us, and a disposition to 
- make the best of our state before God. They show, 
therefore, the grossest misconception of essential truth, 
a virtual disbelief of the peculiar doctrines of the gos- 
pel. Those truths, which should inspire hope and con- 
fidence in the breast of an awakened sinner, are blank 
and void. The whole. system is without form; as 
a ‘root out of dry ground,’ having no uses that we 
should desire it. We have views which dispose us to 
dispense with the atonement of Christ; but this surely 
appears to be a cheering and. indispensable truth, 
if we see our deserts aright,—yet a very humiliating 
and offensive one, if we see them not. Hence the 
prevalent disposition to lower the standard of holi- 
“ness to what we conceive to be within the reach of 
our own powers. Hence the holiest men have the 
deoottt sense of their indebtedness to Christ, and the 
most affecting apprehensions of personal unworthi- 
ness and defilement; and this brings us again to the 
principle we have had in view; for whence have the 
holiest men the most vivid perceptions of the nature 
of sin, and of their own ill-desert, if it be not true 
that our perception of moral qualities, whether good 


or evil, is modified by our own character ? 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 207 


CHAPTER VIUl. 


Singularities in human conduct—Importance of knowing ourselves— 
Proneness to possess God with our own likeness—Causes of delu- 
sion in our judgment of him—Application of the subject to the 
reader—Reasons for distrusting his own opinions shown by various 
analogies—Continued argument with him—Separate responsi- 
bility of the head and heart—Peculiar evidence of divine truth— 
Difficulties in the way of believing—When they are insuperable— 
How overcome—Misconceptions of the gospel—Necessity of divine 
grace—Questions and troubles about human ability considered— 
Office and sacrifice of Christ how estimated—Characteristics an 
the times—Needful despair—Proofs of infidelity. 


~ 


Mosr of us are aware of the frauds ‘and deceptions 
which run through all ranks of men, and endanger 
our peace and security in a thousand ways; and it is 
singular so few of us should ever be upon our guard, 
or see that more fatal hypocrisy by which we de- 
ceive and overreach our own hearts. Itis indeed 
very singular we can be so readily convinced of the 
self-delusions of others, and yet never be suspicious 
and wary of ourselves; so sharply observant of 
things around -.us, and yet never retire within our- 
selves to notice what is passing there. It is a flat- 
tering and beguiling distemper which we have, and, 


if we will not undertake the task of its examination 


* $ 


208 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


with a curious and impartial eye, how knowing so- 
ever we are in other respects, we shall be ignorant 
in this, the most important of all; we shall be unap- 
prized of a thousand mistakes; our self-deceits will 


carry us from ourselves, and bring us in such reports 


on what we do as suit our inclinations. 


The conduct and experience of men, as we have 
seen, furnish strong analogies.in support of the posi- 
tion, that there is a general tendency in our nature 
to aseribe our own views of sin and of ourselves, to 
God; to possess him, so to speak, with our own cha- 
racter. This tendency admitted, we see at once the 
great importance of being acquainted with ourselves, 
and with the various deceits to which we are liable. 
Without such acquaintance, we can have no ground 
for-trust in our views of the character of God, 
or of our standing in his sight.” Nay, so apt is 
our depraved nature to fondle and cherish its own 
creations, that the great danger is, our self-deception 
will be more complete and inveterate on this subject 
than on any other, and we become chiefly wedded 
to the. worship of that object, which bears the 
greatest likeness to ourselves, as thereby we fall in 
smoothly with our .own propensity, and come un- 
awares to honour ourselves most, yea, to receive the 
worship which is offered as to another. We cannot 


be too apprehensive of this danger, or too highly 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 209 


prize a knowledge of the causes from which it pro- 
ceeds. 

The conclusion, to which our past. reasoning has 
tended, may seem to have little to do with us, if we 
think we have little to fear from the impositions of 
an evil heart. It should therefore have a more par- 
ticular consideration, that we may not fail of being 
duly impressed by it, or evade its application to our- 
selves, through the same deceits by which so great a 
cheat is first effected. We are, certainly, in no case — 
so liable to this deception, as when judging of the ; 
character of God. If we can divest him of every 
aspect of terror and evil to us, we shall have gained 
the point of nature; we shall rise in self-estimation 
as we depreciate in excellence, and so prove ‘there 


is a way that seemeth right unto a man, when the 


end thereof is death.? Who will hold ‘his eye to the 


light which ‘makes manifest the hidden counsels’ 
and miseries of the heart?. Who will seek to be 
familiar with moral perfections which require him 
to forsake ‘all ungodliness and worldly lusts,’ which 
will not bend to accommodate any selfish passion, 
and which pass as in streams of lightning along the 
path of his being, and through the recollections of 
his soul, giving image to the dangers which beset 
him who does not conform, and move in har- 


mony with them? 0, who can trust his ability to 
18* 


210 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


think worthily and impartially, of the perfections 
of Him ‘ whose eye’ 


‘ Views all things at one view,’ 


when, as a sinner unreconciled, his passions, fears, 
interests and hopes, with - ceaseless cry, are impor- 
tuning and bribing him for a decision in their favour? 
; will you, reader, refuse to allow the testimony of a 
upposed criminal, to his own innocence, when the 
est he’ has to escape conviction is involved in 
~ they unishment of a day, and yet confide in the tes- 

timony of your deceitful heart, to the nature of the 
moral attributes of God, when you are ‘induced to 
level them to your own nature, or to elevate your 
nature to them,.by all the interest you feel, to con- 
tinue your sinful indulgences -and spare your fond 
desires, without parting with the hope of his favour 
at last? Will you refuse in a court of law to admit 
the testimony of certain individuals on account of 
the partialities that grow out of the intimate ‘con- 
nexions of life; or will you refuse to commit your 
your cause to be tried by jurymen, who are suspected 
of prejudice against your interest, and yet pretend 
that you can be trusted to judge worthily of the per- 
feetions of God, with whom you are connected as 
a dependent and accountable sinner, and between 
whose service and your inclinations there is a hos- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 911 


tility, which commenced with your moral being, and 
has strengthened with your years? We need not 
say that neither your philosophy, nor practice in 
other respects, justifies this vain presumption. But 
if you do not so judge, the question is, why are you so 
indifferent to spiritual things? - It is clear you would 
have alarms for your welfare, if you had just con- 


ceptions of God,—for all his requirements and pur- 


Re 
WT 
U 
¥ 


poses are not only consistent with his character, b 
emanations and proofs of its perfection. Should 
see a criminal, under sentence of death, to whom ~ 
conditions of pardon had been proposed, gazing — 
coolly on the preparations making for his execution, 
you would conclude he either did not perceive his 
danger, or else had determined to die. But as a 
sinner, it may be, you are ready to own you do not 
see your danger, and cannot confide in the justness 
of your notions of God, and still have not deter- 
mined to die in your sins. You must then trust in 
something, What is it? ‘Show me thy faith by 
thy works.’ If faith have works and you show them 
not, but show contrary works, are they not the 
works of infidelity? To say nothing of dissolute- 
ness, profaneness, or viciousness of any kind, where 
pride, covetousness, discontent, uncharitableness, 
impatience, pusillanimity, and ‘such like,’ abound, 
can faith be there ?. Can a man believe there is a 


ey 


ae 


212 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


God, and still affront him with a cherished preference 
of the world? Can he believe there is a judgment 
to come, a heaven, a hell, and yet so little regard his 
life, slight infinite blessedness, and rush on infinite 
wo: We may well suspect there is no such faith. 
We rather think he is making his escape through the 
ways of his own invention. You sce not your dan- 
ger, or seeing it, are not alarmed. Is there not some 


self-deception in your case? There is, certainly, 


ground for industrious inquiry into the nature of 
your indifference: to the peril of your condition. 
‘You are under sentence of déath: Conditions of 


‘pardon are proposed to you.’ You do not accept 


them. The time of execution is at hand. You are 
approaching the fatal crisis, and ‘still your attention 
is occupied with the pleasures of the way. You do 
not expect to suffer the penalty of the law, and why 
are you indifferent to the peril of outliving in ‘guilt 
“the day of salvation?’ Clearly, you see not your 
guilt—you value not the pardon offered to you. 
And what is this but infidelity? What is it but to 
doubt the word of God, to reject his Son, ‘to make 
him a liar,’ and to suppose he would terrify you with 
intimations of evil, to which you are not exposed by 
the principles of your character? It is in effect to 
doubt his opposition to the reign of sin and Satan, 
and to make him, not ‘altogether such a one as thy- 


we POPULAR INFIDELITY. 213 


self,’ but a great deal worse than you allow yourself 
to be. Your account of the matter may be this and 
another; your quiet of ¢onscience may come in this 
and another way, but all may be reduced to infidelity 
at last. Not to perceive things God has revealed, is: 
to doubt them. . Lose your right and effective per- 
ceptions of them as you will, traces of unbelief may _ 
be found in all the turns and windings of the pro- 


cess. There is not a sin you commit but has.a 


strong spice of. it, and your indifference, your 

worldliness, your distaste. to spiritual things, 1s but 

its ripened fruit. : | Es ‘ 
Will you shun this conclusion by saying you per- _ 

ceive the peril of your condition, and are yet able to 

rest because you regard it to be distant? To say 

this, is to confess you discover no reasonableness or 

propriety in the divine law to constrain you to obey 

it, no loveliness or beauty in holiness that you should » 

now desire it, no deformity or turpitude in sin that 

you should now avoid and hate it. It is doubting 

God’s anger against evil doers, and presuming on 

his forbearance and your security, against the decla- 

rations of his word and the course of his providence. 

It is preferring other things to his favour for the 

present, and presenting a reason for future amend- 

ment—escape from threatened evil—which infers in 


you no sense of obligation to amend, and no con- 


214 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


sideration for his will. It is discarding as delusive 
or false all his promises of good, (not trusting in 
them at all, not at all prizing the blessing they en- 
gage,) and only fearing evil as our nature but too 
well suspects it, rather than fearing it as revealed. 
This is the amount of your defence; and it leads us 
to the same conclusion from which it was designed 
to afford an escape, namely, that your indifference 
to the peril of your condition arises from: the infi- 
delity involved in the belief that God regards things 
as you do; that he is ‘altogether such a one as you 
pare.”. It is a most specious deception, that which 
enables you to. disbelieve all you will, under the 
pretence of faith and the colour of believing all you 
should. As in the Romish doctrine the sacramental 
bread is made God, and souls are thus deluded, so 
your depravity, running through and debasing your 
thoughts of God, amounts -to the possessing of him 
with yourselves—a making of him such a divinity as 
may prove destructive to your soul—an entering and 
concealing of your sins in him, so that, you come not 
to know your difference from him, or to fear his dis- 
pleasure with you. Such appears to be the ground of 
your security, all smoothed and-chalked by that airy 
casuist of our bosoms, who looks into the elear sun 
at noon, and all is darkness; who casts on all objects 
his own -shadow, and therefore. claims them for his 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 215 


kindred,—changes all colours into one, and boasts 
that one to be his own. ) 
That the matter presents itself to your mind in 
this form and character, is not at all likely. You 
may or not have some definable ground of religious 
trust—your faith may take in the nominal doctrines 
of Christianity; but the secret of its inefficiency, 
where does that:lie? Not in the nature of the things 
to be believed; and none pretend they have any 
power in their name. It is not the name of.a Chris- 
tian, but Christ that is in you, that gives you life 
and power with God. Whether you are trusting in 
your own righteousness, in the accuracy of your 
creed, in the exuberant mercy of God, or what com- 
mands.soever you have kept—if the great command- 
ment of love is neglected—none of these make you 
an ‘Israelite indeed;? no more than a veil makes a 
saint, a cowl a monk, or a laboratory a chymist. 
An infidel may do all these; but ‘with the heart 
man believeth unto righteousness,”? that is, unto jus- 
tification before God. That you have not so be-. 
lieved, your acknowledged indifference shows. It . 
is called believing ‘ with the heart,’ because it takes 
effect in-the mind, only when the heart cordially 
approves of the object; and it is only when we mis- 
take and misconceive spiritual objects, that they are 


1 Rom. x. 10, 


ah 


216 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


not lovely and engaging. Our hearts and minds are 
not such separate things in the business of religion, - 
as our notions of their localities would indicate. 
They are not such separate agents in the responsi- 
bility of believing, as we sometimes take them to be. 
That we do not feel suitably towards the objects of 
faith, we venture, arises from our want of suitable 
views of them. That wrong feelings, preoccupied 


hearts, occasion this defect, may be, but the mind 


has taken the lead in this derangement and assents 


thereto. True faith, after all, seems little more, 
nothing more that we can see, than a believing of 
things rightly perceived. Pure hearts are apt to_ 
believe very strongly, because to the pure the objects 
of faith are pure. The heart—poor and empty— 
we fear is charged wrongfully, when we call it that 
dead thing which will not respond to our percep- 
tions, blame it for all the ill we do, and let the mind 
go clear. When we have seen the promptness with 
which some men acknowledge the faults of their 
hearts, taxing them often with unsparing severity 
at the same time ‘they resent the slightest reflection 
upon their mind, the great seat of intentions: and 
executive of desires, we have been suspicious this 
might be. one of our nature’s dangers, one of the 
covert ways in which we seem to loose ourselves 


from responsibility, and are betrayed into a notion 


m 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 217 


that we are rather unfortunate than guilty in most 
of the wrong we do. It is, certainly, well to have 
it settled in the mind, that the heart follows the lead 
of ourselves, and that all the blame we charge on it 
is ours. If we will think much of our minds, it 
should be, because they control the heart through the 
ministry of right perceptions of those objects which 
are adapted to move its affections along the course 
of right reason and faith. 

There is a peculiar evidence of divine truth which 
you never see—see what else you will—if you 
judge of it merely by the intellect, much less, if the 
intellect be swayed by adverse affections. But 
when the repugnance of the heart is overcome, we 
hhave this evidence in the substance, the relish of the 
truth; we then see a conspicuous excellency in it, 
which approves it to the mind, and confirms it by 
a happy experience of its power and sweetness. 
There is nothing at all supernatural in this, nothing 
contrary to the laws of general experience. We 
may hear much of the excellent qualities of an indi- 
vidual, but there is a certain evidence which they 
seem not to haye, though they be such qualities as 
we approve and fully believe to exist, till we have, 
so to speak, some experience of them which moves 
on our affections. They have a brightness, a loveli- 


ness then, which engages all our confidence, and 
19 


218 * POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


makes us feel, whether the subject of them be pre- 
sent or absent, that we know in whom we believed. 

So then, there is as much true philosophy as 
divinity in the words of our Saviour, when he said, 
‘How can they believe who seek honour one from 
another, and not that honour which cometh from 
God? How hardly shall a rich man enter into the 
kingdom of God.’ They have their affections pre- 
engaged; they do not ‘seek first the kingdom of 
God;’ and all the glories of it compare not in their 
estimation with the objects they have chosen. They 
cannot therefore perceive aright the things to be 
believed, nor can the heart be moved towards them, 
till it breaks its present hold. This will give you 
an insight into the condition of secular men gene- 
rally. They may not be seeking honour or riches, 
but seek what they may, and something they are all 
seeking before the ‘kingdom of God,’ it will ex- 
clude for the time the possibility of faith. The 
Bible does not, reason does not, tolerate the prefer- 
ence of any object to God. Take away this obsta- 
cle, disengage the heart, and how hardly shall they 
not believe, when they are thus left to see without 
bias the excelleney and obligation of spiritual things? 
In proportion to the strength of men’s worldly 
attachments—their fondness and persistence in for- 
bidden ways—is the difficulty they experience in 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. =~ = 219 


believing. No conviction of spiritual things can be 


gained, which will make any due impression, whilst | 
the heart is held in a preference of other things. 
Hence, if it be necessary we should undergo an entzre 
change, we see that the requirement of supreme love 
to God, a love preferring him before all other things, 
is founded in the necessities of our nature; it is in- 
dispensable as a cause of the effect to be produced. 
Without it, we cannot believe, cannot rate the value 
of things as they are, and must consequently lose 
that influence from them, which is essential to our 
renovation, our realizing faith. ORE 

When our Saviour, discoursing on this subject,* 
said, ‘ How hard is it for them that trust in riches to 
enter into the kingdom of God!’ it was anatural and 
reasonable inquiry of the disciples, as he strength- 
ened the assertion—‘ Who then can be saved?’ He 
had used a comparison which made it appear quite 
impossible that any should; but had they considered 


- what it is to ‘trust in riches,’ that is, to prefer and 


rest in any created good, they would have been con- 
vinced that none so doing could believe, could be 


_ saved. Few persons of this description have as much 


consideration for religion, as he who ‘ came running,’ 
and saying, ‘ Good Master, what shall I do that I may 


inherit eternal life?? He had done much in his own 
i Mark x. 23—28, 


way; he had observed the commandments from his 
youth; yet, when required to give up that on which 
his heart relied most, he was not ready, ‘and went 
away grieved.’ 

When it is considered how many things we may 


do, and what surrenders we may make for the favour 


of God, and yet be unable to bear a touch in the 
tenderest spot of interest, or to deny a favourite 
indulgence, it is. a comfortable and encouraging 
doctrine, that which our Lord taught his disciples 
in answer to their question—‘* With men it is im- 
possible, but not with God: for with God all things 
are possible.’ They, who quarrel with this doctrine, 
may be suspected of hoping more from themselves 
than from the grace of God; but they are not the 
readiest to abandon their reliances; to ‘ forsake all, 
and follow Christ.’ And if you turn your thoughts 
back to the deceptions which have been traced out, 
to the false reliances, lurking places, and fair forms 


of unbelief, and mark the deep aversion to spiritual 


things which runs through them all, and then weigh 
impartially what you have done and are ready to 
do, and infer thence what you willbe likely to do, 
‘to inherit eternal life,’ we submit, it will be diffi- 
cult for you to grouné any confidence in yourself. 
Still, we misjudge if there is not much practical 


we 
. , - 
= ~ , 


220 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


misconception and error on this point, among those 
eee. 8 eA eae 


Salt pe Agi 
g 
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re oF ae: 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 221 


who profess fo réceive the truth, and to be fully per- 
suaded of their dependence. Their faith, however 
correct it may stand to the mind, does not bring 
them in practice to despair of other relief, and to 
surrender themselves into the hands of God. It 
does not make them importunate at a throne of 
grace, or distrustful and apprehensive of their 
strength against sin. When they are induced to do 
any thing for the soul, they generally proceed in a 
way that seems not to recognise the doctrine of 
their dependence. Instead of coming to Christ as 
helpless, self-destroyed, hoping in mercy, and claim- 
ing nothing, they are ready to do almost any thing 
before this the one thing needful.1 They check if 


themselves in sin, pray, read, and ‘ do many things,’ — 


1 Whatever causes the undervaluation of Christ and his offices, is 
of the essence of infidelity. We can no more do without him in 
religion, than we can trade in the world without. money or credit. 
This point cannot be too much considered. It is our natural infi- 
delity, so to call it, its easiest, earliest manifestation, that which we 
style our proneness to overlook it in our religious thoughts and 
hopes. “But if you think to overcome this death, this sense of sin, 

_ by diversions, by worldly delights, by mirth, and music, and society 3 
or by good works, with a confidence of merit in them; or with a re- 

" : lation to God himself, but not as God hath manifested himself to 
e you, not in Christ Jesus 5 the stone” (your sin) “shall lie still upon 
4, you till you putrefy into desperation. To be agood moral man, and 
ik --_yefer all to the law of nature in our hearts, is but diluculum, ‘ the 
dawning of the day;’ to be a godly man, and refer to God, is but 


er crepusculum, ‘a twilight ;’ but the meridional brightness, the glo- 

ee 4 ‘ious noon and height, is to he a Christian ; to pretend to no spirit~ 
. Lary Ay 

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Ba 


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222 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


with a view to prepare themselves for divine accept- 
ance, (‘and these ought they to have done, and not 
to have left the other undone;’) and it is a great 
mercy if God leads them, through these winding and 
perplexing ways of their choice, to find the truth at 
last; to come empty-handed to Christ, willing to be 
saved on his terms, and able to trust’in his suffi- 
ciency, who is All in all. 

That they discredit the gospel, or misconceive its 
plainest import, is abundantly clear from their prone- 
ness to rest in the merit of their own works; and 
they hear so much of their adbzlity, and are often so 
stoutly and broadly assured of it, that it is perhaps 
not all their fault that they forget its true conditions, 
and set themselves to the work much as they would 
if no redemption were provided for them. If they 
would let their own consciousness, their active 
nature, turn teacher on the question of their ability, 


they would be more likely to practise the true phi- 


losophy of religion. Men are seldom in despair 


with regard to their religious prospects: it is not 
the want of hope which makes them careless and 
worldly, not a persuasion that religion itself is un- 
important to them, but a faithless adventure on the 


ual, no temporal blessings, but for, and by, and through, and in our 
only Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus; for he is the first re ction 5 
and ‘blessed and holy is he that hath part in this first resurrection.’ 
—Dr. Donne’s Discowrse on the First Resurrection. =~ 


“ye? 


oe 


. 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 223 


forbearance of God, and on their own capacity and 
disposition to do their duty ata future time. We 
see not what need they have to know more of their 
ability, than is taught them by the praise or blame, 
the right or wrong, which they naturally ascribe to 
their own doings. They cannot divest themselves 
of these prime ideas of truth: they are revelations 
of God within us, and, though their ‘ counsel be 
often darkened by words without knowledge,’ they 
will come out at last in vindication of the divine 
requirements. It is singular men should perplex 
and hamper themselves with a question which so 
little concerns their practice, that they leave it with- 
out conscience of it, whenever the thing to be done 
appears both practicable and desirable. And if their 
duty to God appear not both practicable and desirable, 
it is a want of faith and complacency, not in their 
ability, but in the testimony and nature of the thing 
to be done, which prevents its appearing so. They 
are not straitened in themselves, or in God, but in 
their views of the owtward thing which he requires. 

Christianity is a warfare, and, considered as 
a practice, is called in the Scriptures, ‘fighting 
the good fight of faith.? It enjoins on us duties 
which are most difficult to nature; to think lowly 


ours elves, to seek not our own things, to wave 
‘the regard and at of men, to disclaim our 


“ 
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>» 
soe - POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


own worth and desert, to bear wrongs aud affronts, 
without seeking or so much as wishing any revenge, 
and to meet all crosses and disasters without dis- 
may or complaint, meekly, gladly giving ‘ patience 
her perfect work, that we may be perfect and entire.’ 
They have not the courage, the decision, to adven- 
ture striving thus with themselves, with the ‘lusts 
which war against their souls.’ They are irresolute 
and pusillanimous; and to think of stooping so low, 
of running such hazards, and enduring such hard- 
ships; to think of curbing their appetites and pas- 


sions, of waving their rights and interests, of cruci- 


fying their own members, pulling out right eyes, — 


and cutting off right hands—is a thing that daunts 
and puts them to a stand, and quashes all resolution 
and inclination to close with the Christian command. 
There is nothing unusual in the process; it is the same 
difficulty as that which they feel, when any painful, 
hnmk ing, or unpromising service is proposed to them. 
They decline it for the sole reason, that it is painful, 
humbling, unpromising, or in any other sense dis- 
agreeable; and it does not alter the case, or affect 
their responsibility in it, that it is their love of ease, 
their pride, their incredulity, or their distaste for 
the service, which makes it appear so. The whole 


_ trouble seems to be, that they ‘resist the truth, 


eing men of corrupt minds, and reprobate concern- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 225 


ing the faith,”? ‘ destitute of the truth.’2 And, while 
the matter stands thus, while they know they do 
wrong continually, and do it voluntarily, against 
their: firmest resolves and their clearest convictions 
of duty, what if they should begin to distrust them- 
selves and to despair of amendment? This is pre- 
cisely the feeling they ought to have; it is their 
first approach to an understanding of the truth, and, 
instead of making them more careless in impeni- 
tence, it would drive them to seek relief from God, 
to cast themselves upon his mercy—the only pro- 
per direction and exercise of human ability. When. 
saints are told that ‘His strength is made perfect in 
- their weakness,’ and they find in their experience 
_that ‘when they are weak, then are they strong,’ 


‘strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might,’4 
it is remarkable it should, sometimes, be deemed so 


important to persuade sinners of their sufficiency for 


every duty. Who knows not they would do more. 
if they did not believe they could do so much? 


They must come at last to despair of helping them-. 
selves. Very little good, that we can see, has come 
“of the lasting discussion of natural and moral 
ability, unless indeed it has sharpened minds for 
more available inquiries. It has not altered men’s 


12 Tim. iii. 8. 21Tim. vi. 5. : 4 
we 2 2 Cor. xii, 9, 10, ‘Eph, vi, 10, | ae 


226 POPULAR INFIDELI 


primary and practical convictions, or added a cubit 
to their growth in holiness, a pulse to their con- 
scious life in duty. Help them to see, adequately, 
their guilt and danger, and the love and complete- 
ness of a Saviour for them, and they will feel and 
believe. This would be treating them as reasonable 
ereatures ; but lashing them on their ability, when 
what they most need is a persuasion of their guilt, 
their proper helplessness, their adequate relief, is, 
to say no more of it, a questionable operation. 
There is, in these days, so much said of what 
saints and sinners can do, with so little recognition 
of what they cannot do, that practical error, practi- 
eal feeling, of the worst kind—a spirit of self-reli- 
ance, a contempt for old opinions, a forsaking of 
beaten ways, an impatience that will not let well 
alone, but must deface and spoil it with dashes of 
self- ~improvement—is in danger of coming in, yea, 
has" come i in, and threatens to flood the land with 
strife and irreverence—those strong spices, which 
“‘seent not of the grace and faith of ‘olden time.’ 
Men need most to feel that they are self-destroyed 
and that all their springs are in God. In all their 
unaided »efforts they are as ‘one that beateth the 
air, in regard to all spiritual execution. If they 
saw themselves in danger, and felt they could do 
nothing, they would be ready to ery for help, and 


mn He 


LAR INFIDELITY. 227 


io accept of any aid that is offered to them. They 
would not find it so difficult to trust in the provi- 
sions and promises of a wise and gracious God—the 
most complete and reasonable objects of human 
trust in the universe. They would fly to him 
(ability or no ability) as their refuge and defence. 
This they always do, when felt necessity shuts them 
up to it, and, we think, never otherwise. They 
will try to help themselves without him, as long as 
they believe they can. Their unbelief, their nature, 
disposes them to self-dependence, and self-depend- 
ence, again, to carelessness and inaction. In short, 
their heedless, incurious, and unrelenting spirit is a 
fruit of inferred strength, a growth of infidelity, 
which indicates an oversight, or rather ill sight of 
the great truths of the gospel. It evinces that no 
true light has entered the heart; that the heart is 
not seen as a land of darkness, swarming with lies 
and vain imaginations, and lying under the Bisdow 
of death. Their goodness is like the blossom and fra- 
grancy of certain plants, the growth of a poisonous 
root, and soon to fade, to exhale and pass away. They 

see at most but a part of the evil that is in them, and 

the other, and the worst part perhaps, passes’ with 

them for virtue. And if you are of ‘the careless 

ones,’ this is your case. Your thoughts of sin and 

its punishment, your thoughts of heaven and its holi-~ 


¥ 


228 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


ness, your thoughts of God, are not great enough to 
start you. There is too much of your own stature 
and likeness in them. You should value yourself 
very little on any ability to help yourself, or any 
disposition to do it, when the weightiest truths have 
so long failed to control your choice. It is not so 
important for you to feel, that you can do better 
than you have done, as that you must perish with- 
out help from God. All your other confidences 
have been insufficient, and will desert you at last: 
they spring from, and rest in misconceptions of 
essential truth. When, in the promises and threat- 

ngs of the gospel, you hear the voice of your 


E - iti sr and Judge, and the silken cords of love 
do not draw you, nor the iron chains of terror move 
you, yield at least to the conviction, that if you are 
left of God with a heart so hardened, and left you 
may be, leaving him, your perdition is as certain as 
if it had already begun; and so yielding, feel your 
dependence, and accept the proffered deliverance, 
acceptable then, and only acespted by humble and 
contrite hearts. 

If your feelings will give you leave, you will find 
nothing to hinder your calling on God in the spirit 
of fervent, effectual prayer; and if they give you 
no leave, no insight, no liberty, it is because you see 
not your necessities. Your hinderances may be re- 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 229 


solved again into infidelity, not a doubting perhaps 
that religion is important, but a doubting of things 
which might make you feel it to be so. It is a 
doubting of the grounds of your danger, which 
extends to and breaks the power of all other truth. 
What strange ingredients enter into this ‘ spirit of 
slumber’ that has fallen upon you! You are fortified 
by a charm that ‘leads to bewilder and dazzles to 
blind’ you.in the moment of ruin; the charm of the 
same serpent who tried his power on our nature in 
Eden, and who would lure you to believe you are 
like God, by blinding you to what he is. On any 
other supposition, your insensibility is unaccounta 
No one that isa slave of sin, can remain eas 
belief that God justly regards him as he profes 
to regard the sinner. He must accommodate his 


notions of God to his own standard of excellence; 
he must bring him down, or ascend to him by some 
process; he must conceal away his guilt in God, or 
he must live in perpetual fear and dissatisfaction. 
Now, it cannot be doubted which of these alterna- 
tives you have chosen, if you are not concerned for 
your acceptance in his sight. Besides the fear and 
remorse which. may lead you to seek such relief, 
your prospect is gilded and filled with objects, 


adapted to distract your vision and induce you to 
20 


ek. at 


230 sont, INFIDELITY. 

level down his perfections to-your own likeness. 
There you see the kingdoms of this world in all 
their deceitful glory and fascination, offered for your 
service, and waiting for your acceptance. Here isa 
company of darling lusts, passions, and expectations, 
which you are commanded to slay, and spare not; 
but they, clinging to your recollections of enjoyment, 
plead and claim to be retained in your service by all 
you remember and can anticipate of such enjoyment 
as they afforded, and this, too, at the very moment, 
when they crave new indulgence, which is always 
the moment, when the miseries they may hereafter 
bring upon you, are least likely to be feared, because 
those they have previously caused, are then most 
likely to be out of mind—the moment, when the 
pleasures and interests they can promote, are sure 
to be greatly overrated, because you are reluctantly 
contemplating their entire renunciation. Will you 
venture on, and presume that you are equal to this 
trial?? Can you trust yourself to make against such 
odds,.and to come to a safe and impartial decision? 
Can you cope with passions, which long indulgence 
or the desire of new indulgence may change as into 

Lead a “QO, sir, to wilful men, 


The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters.”’ ® 


* 


— 


POPULAR inven TY. 231 


angels of light,' always ready to give an excuse for 
what they have done, and a reason, and to sense a 
good reason, for what they propose doing; never 
baffled, when denied, and never convinced and 
abashed, when found guilty, but, as cunning sophists, 
(outwitting whom they master, and mastering all 
who trust them,) contriving new artifices for their 
own vindication, and devising new plans for the 
compassing of their own ends? 

Consider, then, how strongly you are tempted so 
to modify your notions of God, as to make him permit 
the indulgence of your evil passions, and the reten- 
tion of your idols, especially when you are called to 
exchange them for objects that have no power to 
charm, and for services you do not relish? Yea, is 
not your repose in impenitence, evidence that your 
conceptions of him are already so modified as to 
quiet your fears and favour your passions? Here is 
the law which is a transcript of his character. It 
demands that you ‘love not the world nor the things 
of the world,’ and that you ‘ cleanse yourself from 
all filthiness of the Aes and spirit, and perfect holi- 
ness in the fear of God.’ Do you see its beauty as 

1“ When we in our viciousness grow hard, 
(O misery on’t) the wise gods seel our eyes ; 
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us 


Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut 
To our confusion,” 


232 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


holy, just, and good? Do you see in what sense 
your happiness here and hereafter, is connected with 
obedience to it? To say you do not, is to say that 
you see not the word of God to be true; that you 
see no filthiness in the indulgence it proscribes—no 
beauty in the holiness it enjoins. But if you see its 
excellence, and your interest in obeying it, it 1s im- 
possible for you to repose, while you refuse to com- 
ply with its requisitions. You might as well expect 
a ‘proud Athos’ to obey your mandate, and part with 
its elevation, as expect reason to permit you to slum- 
ber, while it has such a vision of your peril, and of , 
the worth of the law it honours. It sees a law to 
which it is bound by ties which nothing can dissolve. 
It responds to its command, and is awe-struck with 
the splendour and strength of its chains. It looks 
at the earth beneath, and the heavens above you, and 
a everywhere the features of a religion that will 
be approved, and cannot be bribed to allow one sin- 
ful indulgence. Your offences, in vastness and deso- 
lation, like mountains that intercept your vision of 
the morning sun, rise to its view. It turns with 
aversion and horror from the prospect, as the eagle, 
in its ascension to the skies, is frighted and driven 
back by the lightning and the tempest. It looks out 
again upon the immensity that is above and around 
you, and sces it all as the stern expression of an 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 238 


enemy’s countenance, whose eyes are in every place, 


~ and on whose power all things depend. Can you 


. repose while reason has such visions, alarms, and 
convulsions, by which it performs upon you a work 
like that of the fabled vulture upon the unwasting 
vitals of its victim? Did you perceive the extent of 
your peril, the reasonableness and perfection of the 
Jaw by which you are condemned, you could not rest 
a moment in your sins—you would fly from them, 
as from the quenchless flame in your dwelling—you 
would ‘lay aside these weights,’ as the swimmer 
would drop bars of gold, when he found they were 
sinking him to the bottom of the deep. | 
‘It is too evident to need farther illustration, that 
the species of infidelity, which we have aimed to 
expose, is very common—that the repose of impeni- - 
tent men is inconsistent with just apprehensions of 
the moral attributes of God, and is therefore proof 
they have either concluded in their hearts with the 
fool, that ‘there is no God,’ or have changed his truth 
into a lie, by imagining him to be ‘altogether such a 
one as themselves.? They may not be conscious of 
the process by which they have come to this conclu- 
sion. But if they could remember what has so often 
quieted their alarms and allayed their convictions, 
they might discover it was a secret peradventure 


that God will not bring ‘every work into judgment, 
20* : ‘ 


i 


234 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


with every secret thing, whether it be good or 
evil’—that he is not ‘of purer eyes than to behold 
iniquity,’ or that he will at least, when he behalis 
the greatness of their number, think it a pity to de- 
stroy so many. Let them watch the operations of 
their minds, and see how often thoughts of this cha- 
racter minister to their repose; how much the num- 
ber with whom they are connected, reconciles them 
to their condition; how often their fears are quelled 
by the hilarity and boldness of those who have 
equal or more reason to tremble than themselves; 
how much easier they have always found it to 
believe what they desired, than what they feared 
might be true; and then, let them determine if these 
are not the unresisted goings-on of unbelief in their 
minds, by which they seem likened to God, as the 
apparent distance between one object and another, is 
shortened by the natwre of the instrument through 
which it is viewed. 

We have dwelt long on this subject, because we 
esteem it to be of great practical importance. We 
believe the carelessness and hardness of secular men 
to be owing, chiefly, to this species of infidelity. 
There has, too, been no lack of industry in fortify- 
ing the external defences of the Christian doctrine. 
Could any brightness of outward evidence, any 
depipp research, any cogency of argument, con- 


aes 
Bx. 


ti 


2 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 235 


vi them, infidelity, with whatever shape of irre- 
Md it assumes, had long since disappeared. Still, 
-* they are not convinced; and it has seemed that they 
have need to turn their thoughts in upon themselves, 
to analyze their indifference, or at least to have some 
opinion of it, and to give it a proper name. This we 
have attempted to do, we wish we could say with as 
much success in convincing the reader as desire of 
doing so. 


—_— 


“* 


x 


236 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


“ 


CHAPTER IX. 


Man treated as a rational being in all the divine dispensations—No 
mysteries of feeling in regard to the doctrines of grace—Reason a 
competent judge of things necessary to salvation—Hinderances to 
its right exercise—Our difficulty with religion our fault—Contra- 
riety of the sentiments and practice of Christ to human nature a 
ground of unbelief—Our incapacity to comprehend and believe 
the gospel—How acquired—How to be removed—Divine grace 
attainable when truly desired—Acts of holy obedience free and 
rational—Dispensations of grace encouraging in every scriptural 
view of them—Power of truth—Misconceptions of it the same 
thing as infidelity—Testimony of the Scriptures—Striking guilt 
of sinners in likening God to themselves. 


Ir God does not presume we will act, he certainly 
intends we shall answer to him, as rational creatures; 
for he ever treats with us on this high ground, and 
never moves us, except so that we seem to move 
ourselves. He has given no attestation of his will 
or of our duty, makes no promises and exerts no 
agency on us, except such as both accord with and 
infer our reason. He could do his will in us, or 
make us do it, without this condescension to our 
nature; but he designs not to force or subdue our 
reason to the belief of the gospel. Had this been 
his method, he would not have said, ‘Come, let us 
reason together;” he would not have set us an exam- 


ae z 


by ng 
, 
~ 

POPULAR INFIDELITY. 937 
ple of obedience, and attempered his addresses to the 
various sensibilities of our frame; he would have 
spared himself the trouble of working signs, and. 
wonders, and miracles, and have waived all other 
arguments, which are only appeals to reason. We 
are indeed encouraged to pray God ‘to enlighten our 
minds and understandin gs,’ to give us ‘an increase of 
knowledge and a right judgment in all things;’ but 
in this his spiritual operation he guards our reason; 
he only clears away the darkness about it, brightens 
the evidence of things, that we may more clearly 
distinguish truth from error, and better judge of his 
requirements as rational beings. 

But we need not wind our way, cautiously, over 
this subject. There are mysteries in regard to our 
moral agency, but, happily, they are not mysteries 
of feeling. As Adam was ‘put into the garden to 
keep and to dress it,’! so God has intrusted us with 
a stewardship, with the custody and culture of our 
hearts; and the doctrine is, ‘ work out your own sal- 
vation with fear and trembling, for it is God which 
worketh in you both to will and to do of his good 
pleasure.” The direction and the reason upon which 
it is based, accord, perfectly, with our experience, 
and with all his methods of treating with us and 
acting on us. We may find difficulties in religion, 


1 Gen. ii, 15. 2 Phil. ii, 12, 13. 


r 
rs 


238 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


and hinderances to our faith, but our reason is, and is 
accounted to be, a competent judge of things neces- 
sary to be believed and understood for our salvation. 
If we perplex and embarrass our minds with things 
not necessary, not knowable by us, not revealed, or 
revealed only for the trial of our faith, and the in- 
citement of our humility and admiration, we do so 
to our cost and peril. We assume the responsibility, 
we venture out of our sphere, and, if we become 
suspicious and disloyal subjects, we must thank our 
daring for it. Whatever it be which disaffects us 
with the truth necessary to be known and know- 
able by us, it is our fault. The exercise indeed of 


our reason in regard to things revealed and ess 


a i ey is E 
tial to salvation, depends upon our will and inclina- 


tion, which, besides that they are not naturally 


given to dwell on these things, are apt to be en- 
gaged and taken up with pursuits and enjoyments, 
not only foreign, but adverse to them. Thus, at the 
first appearance of our Saviour, many were his ene- 
mies; his new doctrine was ‘foolishness’ to some, 
and a ‘stumbling-block’ to others; not that they took 
time to examine it, not that it wanted any proper 
evidence, but because his doctrine did not fall in 
with their prejudices and interests, nor his preten- 
sions suit their ambitious aspirings; in which they 


were clearly guided, not by their reason, or the 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 239 


evidence of the case, but by a perverse will and the 
evil possessions of their heart. ¢ . 

But since,—from our natural notions of right and 
wrong, we cannot but know, if know we will, thata 
revelation, coming from a holy God to unholy crea- 
tures and proposing their renovation, must cross 
their evil designs and affections,—any difficulty we 
may have or make with the truths of religion on this 
score, instead of diminishing their evidence to our 
reason, does greatly increase it. Such difficulty, 
however, shows that, in order to enable us fairly to 
examine these truths, and to believe them on.appro- 


, priate and sufficient evidence, the opposition of our 


be ts to them must be overcome. This too seems to 


es ~ be taught when our Lord said, ‘If any man will do 


“Wetnd’s will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it 


be of God, or whether I speak of myself ;?! that is, if 
aman has not a disposition to obey the truth, he is not 
in a condition to have a correct understanding of it; 
he is not prepared to receive the doctrine of Christ, 
and to believe him to be “a teacher come from God.’ 

Now this disposition is far from being natural 
to men. When we contrast their sentiments and 
practice with the sentiments and practice of Christ, 
we see the greatest disagreement. We naturally 
estimate nothing as he did, and it is therefore 

1 John vii. 16, 17, 


eas 
7%, hy | 
“ia Whe 
240 the 0] HAR INFIDELITY. 


~~, Ag 


V onder rt. ee are ‘offended in him.’ He 


wanted Poridly greatness, and though his want- 


ing i not make him less honourable, but ren- 
. dered that so, which he did not choose to take on 
him, still we can hardly bear to serve him in that 
station in which he so meekly and greatly served 
us. He magnified and seemed to court the most 
difficult duties; but we start at difficulty, and turn 
back when our way is in the wilderness. The 
duties which cross and disaffect us, were all easy 
and natural to him, because his whole humour was 
in accordance with them. Therefore he could con- 
_ sent to be poor and unhonoured—a dependant upon 
the charity of others—but to be poor, to beg, we 
are ashamed. We can give bountifully perhaps to 
others; but sweetly to receive their charities and 
depend on them, that is a dignity which we can as 
little see to be so, as desire to attain. Indeed, there 
are stout pretenders to virtue, who would think it 
more honourable to obtain, by indirect and covert 
means, yea, by evident injustice and fraud, the ne- 


‘eessaries of life, than to receive them at the hands 


of a willing charity. In order for them to ‘know 
of the doctrine of Christ, whether it be of God,’ it 
is evident that they must have a temper more in 
harmony with his teaching and example; they must 
‘know how to abound, to suffer want,’ and to do al” 


a 


s 


be permitted to give the stamp of littleness or great- 


1Tt sounds strange perhaps to speak of poverty as a duty, espe- 
cially when so many are made poor by their vices, and when a 
volume has so recently been written, designed to prove, from the 
Bible, “that it is the duty of every man to become rich.” This is 
baiting the hungry with what they like at least. But we must yet 
think that poverty is a duty, a great and comprehensive duty. This 
may appear to be a presuming and forward opinion ;— 


“For, in the fatness of these pursy times, 
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ; 
Yea, curb and woo, for leave to do him good.” 


The contrariety of the spirit and practice of Christ to our natural 
feelings and conceptions is so great, and so evidently the ground of 
our misconceiving, and, therefore, in effect, discrediting his true cha- 
racter, that we shall take the liberty here to go out of our way a 
little to illustrate it. 

It may perhaps be our duty to be poor,  deleedint it may be, if it is 
not the will of God that all should be rich. All our abuses, both of 
poverty and riches, are breaches of this duty. Our Saviour also 
gave it the place of honour in his life and instructions. And if we 
consider. what seems to ruin so many souls, and to cause crimes to 
abound, we shall not wonder at it. One of the chief temptations to 
all the wickedness in the world is the terror of poverty. It is a great 
and powerful mover of unrighteousness, covetousness, extortion, and 
cheating. In short, what evil have men not done, through fear of 
being reduced to live in a low condition, or an immoderate desire of 
riches. If all had a right esteem of poverty, evidently we should 
feel much safer on every side; we should not need so many laws 
and prisons for the protection of rights. And what can more clearly 
show our want of faith in Christ, our want of a due impression of 
his honour and glory, than our fear and shame of that rank in the 
world which he chose for himself. It is proof enough how little we 
have of the temper of Christ, that we have so little patience with his 
station in the world. We seem not to know how to be honoured, 


21 


Re 
242 
2 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


ness to all the designs and pursuits of life, we shall 
make ill work of estimating the doctrine and exam- 


but to seek honour from that which could confer no honour on him. 
The character of a poor godly man we can ill bear; it is not envied, 
not perhaps admired by us, though it was the character of the Cre- 
ator of the world when he ‘dwelt among us.’ Thus his doctrine 
must be an offence ioe us. Our character makes it so. 

We also eile to i ue wise heads more than good hearts, but he 
sought no suc ion. He had all wisdom and learning at his 
command, and a tood all mysteries, yet he made no display of 
knowledge, and was satisfied to confine himself to magnify and 
obey the holy law of God; he said and did nothing but what was 
useful to encourage humility, and holiness, and patient well-doing. 
Should we do so, or should we be as careful and expend as much to 
improve our hearts, as heads, we might become surprising proficients 
in holiness. And when we are good enough, if we have not sense 
enough, we shall be satisfied with what we have. But we clearly 
do not see this subject as he saw it. We have one rule of estima- 
tion; he had another and very different one. We must be in the 
wrong—we have lost the secret of true greatness,—rather we never 
had it. pots ay 

We are also prone to admire and imitate the actions of great 
men. We reward good, and punish evil deeds, to encourage the 
imitation of the one, and prevent the repetition of the other. We 
expect to aid the cause of virtue in this way. Christ pursued the 
same plan, left us a life of great and worthy actions, yea, of those 
very actions which he requires of us; and though we are so good at 
imitation in other respects, yet what wretched learners and imitators 
in this!’ That we do refuse to follow so great an example, when 
the acts of our solicited imitation, are the acts which he will reward 
with eternal life, and the acts too, to which our duty draws us, is a 
strange perverseness, and shows that we lie under an indisposition 
to do what our reason approves. 


“Sure He that made us with such large discourse, 
Looking before and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fust in us unused ime 


~ “* 
2 aie rs # bs 
ey 
POPULAR INFIDELITY: Re BAS 


7.8 
ple of Christ, to which both they and our hearts are 
opposed. If the example of the Creator cannot 
weigh with us as much as that of creatures, in fixing 
the standard of greatness, and the rule of valuing 
temporal things, we shall continue to hear and not 
understand, when the question of our duty is pro- 
posed. We are under an incapacity to comprehend 
and believe, which reason and conscience both con- 
demn as our fault. 

So long as lust, pride, any evil temper, or the 
love of the world has dominion over us, we must 
not only have a great indisposition to inquire after 
divine truths, but a great blindness to the brightness 
and excellency of them. We never see the full 
beauty, the proper evidence of any good quality, if 
we deem it undesirable, much less if it be adverse 
to our desires. Hence only ‘he that is of God hear- 
eth God’s word;’! that is, only he, that is disposed 
by the grace of God, obeys him. ‘No one can come 
unto me,’ says our Lord, ‘except the Father, which 
hath sent me, draw him. No man can come unto 
me, except it were given unto him of my Father.’ 
Why? Because ‘ye will not come to me that ye 
might have life.’? ‘ Light has come into the world,’ 
and why do not men receive it? Only ‘because 


their deeds are evil.’ Why do ‘they hate the 
1 John viii. 47. & 2 Tb. v. 40. 


i 
a 9! Valles 


+ 
* 


244 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


light,’ and turn their eyes from it? Only ‘lest their 
deeds should be reproved.’ Their indisposition to 
see and understand the truth, is ‘the very head and 
front of their offending;’ it is no palliation of their 
guilt, but the life, the growth of it, and it must be 
taken away before they can helieve. This is the 
whole matter. Accordingly, ‘If any man will 
‘come unto me,’ says our Lord again, ‘let him deny 
himself, and take up his cross, and follow me;’! that 
is, if any man wishes to become his disciple, he 
must first be willing to deny himself the gains and 
pleasures which are most pleasing to nature; he 
must lay aside his weights, disengage his affections, 
and so he may ‘take up his cross,’ (a cross still, and 
his cross, too,) and ‘follow on to know the Lord,” 
yet ‘not as though he had already attained, either 
were already perfect; but following after, if that he 
may apprehend that for which also he is appre- 
hended of Christ Jesus.” 

We must now be able to see what hinders our be- 
lieving; and if we have not found it easier to lay our 
passions and master our inclinations in deference to 
the claims of religion than it falls to our experience 
in other cases, we shall be prepared to welcome the 
doctrine of divine grace, as one suited to the neces- 
sity, if not to the good pleasure, of our nature. All 

Matt. xvi. 24. ? Hos. vi. 3. 2? Phil. iii, 12. 


* 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 245 


who are disposed to receive the faith of Christ, are 
drawn to it by the Spirit of God. He opens: their 
hearts, as he did Lydia’s, ‘to attend unto the things 
which were spoken of Paul.?!_ There is no possible 
discouragement in this doctrine; for, by what rule 
and in what measure soever it be given, we are sure 
that none can ever want the grace of God, who are 
willing to have it. It is easy for men to say they 
desire grace, and perhaps to persuade themselves 
that they desire it, but it is all a deception, if they 
are averse to the virtues and tempers which God re- 
quires, because this is the same thing as being averse 
to that operation of his Spirit which produces them. 
They choose to be without his grace, unless they 
seek it in his appointed ways, with the same earnest- 
ness as they seek other things which they want and 
must have. If they desire the grace of God, they 
will at least avoid all hinderances to it, and cease to do 
things contrary to it. What they want and seek on 
other conditions, is not what he proposes as grace. 
He does not give men grace, or make them holy, 
against their will. He indeed makes them willing, 
yet not as by force, but something as the sun’s heat 
wills them to the cooling shade, or as its sweetness 
wills them to taste of offered fruit. As he makes us 
see and walk by giving us natural light and strength, 


1 Acts xvi. 14. 
21% 


246 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


- 
* 


so he gives us spiritual light and strength, that we » 
may do him the reasonable service he requires. He 
never deals with us more strictly as rational creatures, 
than he does in giving us the assistance of his Spirit, 
and we are never so rational in our exercises, as when 
we believe his truth, and love and adore his perfec- 
tions,—they being so worthy of this obedience, and 
our rendering it an act so rational, that it makes us 
at once both happy and deserving to be so. Thus, 
while we are always failing of our duty, and have 
every reason, deducible from our nature and doings, 
to know that we shall continue to fail of it on any 
other plan than that which is laid in the gospel, we 
see that this proceeds not less upon a knowledge of 
our spiritual necessities, our weakness and corrup- 
tion, than upon the supposition that we will do 
nothing, till he opens the eyes of our understand- 
ing, inclines our will to that whereto it does not 
naturally incline, and so ‘fulfils in us all the good 
pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith.” 
Our endeavours and our prayers are indeed neces- 
sary; for God, who does our work for us, will never 
do it without us. We must have the assistance of 
his Spirit; but we have no ground to expect it, if 
we will not seek it. He must work in us his own 
‘fruits;? but we have no ground to expect it it, unless 


12 Thess. i. 11. 


a 
co 


. POPULAR INFIDELITY. 247 


S 


we do things meet to them, yea, unless ‘we also 
labour thereto, striving according to his working.’! 
But we must ‘not be high-minded,’ or suppose that 
we can do any thing as of ourselves; for ‘it is God 
that worketh in us to will and to do,’ and all the 
fruit we bear, is the fruit of his Spirit, not the fruit 


of our prayers and doings as ours; we bear. fruit 


indeed, but it is as branches, we owe it all to ‘the 
fatness of the olive-tree,’ not to ourselyes—we ‘bear 
not the root, but the root beareth us.”? How suit- 
able then, how animating to us, is the doctrine, that 
we have an Intercessor on high, who has offered 
himself once for all unto God, and through whom, 
not only the good things of this life, made holy and 
salutary, are granted to us anew as pledges of a 
Father’s care, but also the gift, the great, the un- 
speakable gift of a divine Comforter, one with the 
Father and the Son, to be to those who are ignorant 
the Spirit of knowledge, to those who are perplexed 
with doubts and errors the Spirit of truth, and to 
those who are polluted with sin, and they are all, 
the Spirit of holiness! 

We may also see that all the hinderances to our 
faith are in ourselves. They are our evil desires 
and passions, our love of the world, ‘and what- 
ever worketh abomination or maketh a lie;’ and 


1 Col. i. 29. 2 Rom, xi. 17, 18. + 


Pe 


248 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


contemplating their operation simply, we may re- 
solve them all into an indisposition to attend to divine 
things. Now this indisposition, this drifting of the 
mind and the affections to sensible objects, nothing 
can break but the power of truth. Indeed, it has its 
seat in misconceptions of the truth, both as it relates 
to the nature of sin and to the character of God. 
Men who are in this condition, are not without opi- 
nions on these subjects. Their opinions may not be 
rational; they may be as inconsiderate as any other 
part of their conduct; they may not themselves be 
sensible of the degree of their influence, or of the 


mode of their operation; but they are no feeble and 


sickly agents; they are, and can be shown to be, 
strong enough to withstand the force of truth, which 
is always sufficient to carry right minds, and which, 
rightly understood, is never inconsiderable with the 
worst hearts. They have become so familiar with 
their crimes and follies by custom, that they scarcely 
see any demerit in them, and, of course, they do not 
see the truth that might present them in a true 
character. Their worldliness is an indefinable some- 
thing, upon which the conscience never fixes any 
guilt, and, of course, they do not see the guiltiness 
of not loving God, nor that his loveliness which, if 
truly seen, appears so great, that we must needs love 
him and thirst after him, as that which exceeds all 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 249 


other delights. Their sinfulness—considered as se- 
parate from acts, as a thing attached to their nature, 
and running through their spiritual exercises and 
affections, and there when not running, like distem- 
pered blood that runs or lodges in the heart and 
veins of the fleshly system, corrupting and bringing 
to decay the outward man—is of very small ac- 
count with them, and, of course, they do not see it 
as defiling, yea, as death’s corruption. In order to 
have a perfectly just and lively sense of the evil of 
sin, we must be entirely free, not only from the 
dominion, but from any measure of the love and 
practice of it; but they are confessedly under its do- 
minion and in passion with its service. We might 
still proceed with proofs of their misconceptions of 
the truth as affecting themselves. They do not pro- 
fess to disbelieve these or any similar truths, and it 
follows, therefore, that they must have erroneous con- 
ceptions of them; and, if we sound the matter to the 
bottom, we shall find that this is a chief cause of their. 
inattention to religion; that they have, through the 
deceivableness of the heart, imposed upon themselves 
such views of their own character, as leave them little 
to choose between it and the holiness which is requir- 
ed of them, and as little to fear from the divine dis- 
pleasure. In other words, they have come to imagine 
that God is ‘altogether such a one as themselves.’ 


i 


a3 


a “sae 


250 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


The root of the difficulty is, they want a knowledge, 
an understanding of the truth; they are alienated 
from the life of God ‘through the ignorance that is 
in them.’ :r 

And this view of the subject, which has hereto- 
fore occupied so considerable a portion of our atten- 
tion, we think accords with the Scriptures. We may 
justly appeal to them for testimony in reasoning with 
those who profess to receive them as the word of God, 
though we do not profess to credit their faith in 
them; and when they are found to foretell the difficul- 
ties men experience in believing, and their evasions 
and misconceptions of the truth with the causes 
thereof, and the prediction or resolution of the matter 
agrees with their own consciousness and the general 
analogies of human conduct, it should be a very con- 
vincing, as it is a very intelligible, proof that the 
Scriptures came from him who ‘knew what is in 
man.’ In confirmation of the position under review, 
we have already quoted some scriptural proofs, and 
shall now add a few more. When addressing his 
Christian brethren, St. Paul says, “Now we have re- 
ceived, not the Spirit of the world, but the Spirit 
which is of God; that we might know the things that 
are freely given us of God. But the natural man re- 
ceiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; for they 
are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, 


> 


a ~ 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 251 


because they are spiritually discerned.’! The import 
of this passage evidently is, that ‘the things of God,’ 
the doctrines of the gospel, both as they relate to his 
moral perfections, and to man’s corruption and guilt, 
cannot be rightly apprehended without concordant 
feelings on his part, without those veritable and pure 
views and affections which are imparted through 
the influence of the Holy Spirit. The influence of 
moral character on the perceptions of the mind, and 
thereby presenting to us objects in our own like- 
ness, and producing a dangerous faith, is here clearly 
recognised by the apostle, and this is the principle 
which has pervaded all our remarks upon the sub- 
ject. The same truth is also taught in all that class 
of texts which connect our true knowledge of God, 
that is, our perceiving his moral perfections aright, 
with our love of him, or our obedience to his com- 
mands. ‘ He that loveth not knoweth not God; for 
God is love. He that loveth is born of God, and 
knoweth God. We are of God; he that knoweth 
God heareth us; he that knoweth not God heareth 
not us,—thereby know we the spirit of truth and 
the spirit of error.” And again, says the psalmist, 


‘A good understanding have all they that keep thy 


commandments. I have more understanding than 


all my teachers; for thy testimonies are my medi- 


11 Cor, ii. 12—14, 21 John iv, 6—8. 


a a 


252 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


tation. Through thy precepts I get understand- 
ing: therefore I hate every false way.’* Again, 
there is a remarkable passage which applies ex- 
pressly to our purpose, that where God is repre- 
sented as directly addressing sinners who hate 
instruction and commit abominable iniquity, and 
saying, ‘These things hast thou done, and I kept 
silence; thou thoughtest that I was altogether such a 
one as thyself."2, We may, therefore, conclude that 
‘He who saith, I know God, and keepeth not his 
commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in 
him.’’. He sees nothing as it is; every object bears 
more or less the stamp of his own character. If he 
saw the whole truth, the effulgence would be insuf- 
ferable; if he saw it. very imperfectly, yet loving 
what he saw, and desiring to see more, his doubts 
and difficulties would vanish before it, and the truth 
would make him ‘free indeed.’ Therefore, ‘let us 
not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed 
and in truth; and hereby shall ye know that we 
are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before 
God.”4 

1 Ps, cxix. 99. 104. 2 Pa. I. 21. 3] John il. : 

4 «Because sentence against an evil work is not speedily < a. 
the hearts of men are fully set in them to do evil.’ If they saw the | 
full nature and demerit of ‘an evil work,’ the desire of doing ms ier ; 
be slain, and they would die to sin. In both cases, all they want is | ft 4 


the persuasion which a belief of the truth, the whole truth, would fur- 
nish. How important, then, is it to have correct perceptions of the 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 253 


It should be distinctly noted, in connexion with 
this subject, that our erroneous conceptions of the 
truth, especially if they be allowances in our own 
behalf, will not only prevent our moral improve- 
ment, but sink us greatly below our present standard; 
for the lower our views of duty and excellence now 
are, the lower will be the standard which we shall 
be apt to fix for ourselves to attain to, in future. 
Our evil passions, soiled affections, and clouded 
minds, ever powerful for mischief, and impotent of 
good, if they, though constantly degenerating, are 
yet constantly presenting God to us in our own like- 
ness,.we shall surely have a deity at last that swiftly 
‘dwarfs and withers its worshippers’— 


‘'The proper act and figure of our heart.’ 


The peculiar guilt of this species of infidelity is 
as worthy to be considered as it is unlikely to be 
felt. There is always a strong tincture of self-ap- 
probation in it, and if we do not give it the name of 


truth ; to take up with no base mixtures of it, no fanciful substitu- 
tions in its place. 

If knowing God, we will love him, and if our keeping his come 
| s be the evidence of our knowing him, as the Scriptures 
teach, then, certainly, if we pretend to know him on any other 
_ ground, ‘ we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. The 
Se edge we have is not true knowledge,-—that is, does not repre- 
God and his truth as they are, but probably more, if not such, 

as we would have them. 

22 


254 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 

faith we think it a near relation of that worthy grace.! 
And this, according to our showing, is as apt to be 
the case, when our iniquities are great and daring, 
yea, we may say more apt to be so then, because we 
are more blind to the nature of sin and to the beauties 
of holiness, than at other times. That.we should be 
so incautious as to let our depravity run whither- 
soever it will, and that sin should be of such a 
nature as to lead us to impute the qualities which 
it breeds in us, to God who has none and can have 
none of them, shows both our great sinfulness and 
the great evil of sin. The guilt which we thus 
incur, when contrasted with what God has done 
for us and condescends to teach and promise on con- 
dition of our faith, spreads to an immensity which, if 
it be not infinite, would have been, if we could have 
made it so. It is the guilt not merely of using the 
gifts and mercies of God without thankfulness, but of 
so abusing and corrupting them in our hands, that it 
seems: to impeach his wisdom that they were ever 
there at all—the guilt not merely of withholding the 
faculties he has given us from his service, but of 
marring their edge and fitness for it, and employing 
them to sully his perfections and fashion him to our- 


' Such a faith may prevent our feeling the guilt of infidelity, but 
it exposes us to all its perils, affording us no blessedness here, and 
no assurance of any to come, yet keeping us in 


“ But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep, 
Dreaming on both.” 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. m 255 
selves—the guilt not merely of failing to see him in 
the light of his creatures, but ef so loving darkness 
as not to heed the day-dawn, the sun in whose beams 
they shine as the memorials and pledges of a bright- 
ness all brightness excelling. Yes, this is our guilt, 
the guilt of stamping our likeness on every good 
being, of staining with our colours the beauties we 
should make.our own, and being so deluded with 
our shadows, by which the glory of every thing else 
is obscured, as to lose sight of the excellency of 
which we are—not a shadow—and that is a resem- 
blance which it seems we strive not to attain, though 
it were to us a pledge of things which 

“To lose or give away, were such perdition, 
As nothing else could match.” 

Will you, reader, meditate on the picture? Will 
you think of the surprise and disappointment which 
must await you, if your vision is not betimes rectified 
and cleared? He who pampers his appetite in the 
feast of a dream, may awake and find himself famish- 
ing for food; but what will be your consternation, 
when your fancies give place to the real glories of 
that Being, who ‘thou thoughtest was altogether 
such a one as thyself?? He who is chased by assas- 
sins in the sleep of night, awakes, exhausted perhaps 
by his efforts to escape, yet finding himself reposing 
unmolested on his bed; but your disappointment, 


256 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


what will it be, when you awake from your day- 
dreams of acceptance at the bar of God, and feel 
yourself just kindling with ‘eternal burnings,’ and 
discover then first, that the ‘gulf? between him and 
your own soul, which you had imagined to be but 
a delightful vale through which you could pass at 


any moment, is indeed impassable, 
“The dark, unbottom’d, infinite abyss.” 


If this will be a surprise all surprise beyond, and 
if the prospect of it be terrible, what must the real- 
ity be? Our thoughts cannot attain to it, and words 
are too feeble to express that to which we can 
attain. It is for you to reflect, whether you have a 
faith which works by love and purifies the heart, 
which dissatisfies you with yourself, and makes you 
feel that you can be satisfied only with the likeness 
of God. Such a faith you must have, or you must 
be indulging notions of the divine perfections which 
conceal your guilt, and which, if rested in, will 
bring upon you this last surprise. Dreams they 
are in which you seem to be growing rich, while 
that which you have, is taken away; in which 
you seem to be in health and security, while the 
work of death is going on; in which perhaps you 
seem to be brightening into the image, and glowing 
with the flames of a seraph, while you are darken- 


ing into the likeness, and burning with the fires, of 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 257 


a fiend. The delusion is indeed a specious one. 
You may love and cherish it, and it may abide with 
you in life and in death, but it will dissolve in the 
lustre of the ‘great day.? What you want is the 
seasonable and patient application of your thoughts to 
it, and to the means of your recovery from it.! Were 


If we do not deceive ourselves, the species of infidelity of which 
we speak, finds no little encouragement in the spirit and action of 
the present times. We venture to think that an impatience of re- 
flection, a taste for light reading and preaching if you please, and a 
thirst for designless excitement prevail, which tend to dwarf the 
faith of men, to unsettle well informed opinions, and to satisfy them 
with the fiction of truth and religion. They are deted up to action, 
but not tempered and moulded to the truth. Fixed and certain prin- 
ciples of faith, showing their legitimate effects in the conduct, do not 
constitute the fashion of the day. The public mind seems to be at 
sea, without sufficient ballast to steady it—top-light, and without any 
direction that can safely be calculated upon. 

Now, all this bustle, this ‘flying from pillar to post,’ this ‘drifting 
before the wind,’ must excite and nourish sense, and break up and 
prevent that calm contemplation which is the nurse of faith. It cer- 
tainly turns our thoughts from ourselves and thus prevents that self- 
acquaintance, the want of which makes us doubt the true character 
of all corruption in us, and of all excellence foreign to us. It makes 
this world, with its movements and interests so important and stir- 
ring, that we can scarcely get a moment, certainly not a disposition, 
to think of any thing in separation from them, With the great 
majority, as to the attention which they pay to spiritual concerns, it 
seems indeed that 

“ Life’s but-a walking shadow; a poor player 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more ;——a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, - 
Signifying nothing.” 
Men want reflection, a breaking off of their hold on the world, and 
a steadier looking to the great truths which are set out for their 


pat 


258 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
¥ 
your temporal interest in like peril, you would not 


rest unconcerned, nor would you leave what you 
considered most valuable to you, in this life, to 
ehance attentions, and to the impotency of desires 
and hopes that spring from no knowledge of their 
object, and do nothing to attain it, yea, and hinder 
your doing any thing to that end. We say, again, 
your case is such, and your reason so competent to 
judge of it, that you seem to want most a humour 
to meditate on it. You take no proper cognizance 


of what is going on in yourself, none of what God 


guides, and from which they are to draw life eternal. But the times 
do not favour the change. They foster the evil, and a great evil it is 
that they do. Men are not in tranquil moods, though the times are 
peaceable. The winds of passion swell and give direction to every 
thing. Men must have figures of fancy and glowing colours of 
truth; the thing itself is but a dead fact, cold and narrow,—a sun-in 
clouds, whose heat is like that of the stove, without light and cheer- 
less... They appear palsied in a measure to every thing but fiction 
and storms. The inquiry is, what they can do with this or that, not 
what it is; how this end can be reached by a cross-path, not what is 
the safe and appointed road to it; how this man can be brought to 
serve a certain purpose, not how he is to be informed and convinced 
as a rational creature. Very few seem to love the truth for the 
truth’s sake, without any foreign ends, and fewer still to see that 
goodness and the love of truth are identical, going together as cause 
and effect. Nothing but the brush of things takes their attention, 
and they feel and see only in ablaze. They make no ‘intellectual 
progress, that-is, none in a continuous direction, but eddy round and 
round, best pleased to be ina whirl. Faith and principle they can 
have little, and their” opinions, which they advance to the place of 
these, give way with every press, and change with every huzza for 
new things. And here we leave the matter. 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 259 
a 


is, and how shall you believe? You hear, or might 
hear, a voice as that of sweetest music in the pro- 
mises and provisions of his grace, and in the bless- 
ings of peace and plenty ; you hear, or might hear, 
a noise as that of thunder in his threatenings and 
¥ judgments ; but you do not discern that this me- 
~ lody, or this noise, comes from him ; you take both 
his judgments and his mercies as natural accidents 
and emergencies, which would come to pass, though 
there were no dealing and speaking between God 
and man. Not only do you not hear him in the 
sound of these his organs, but you neither know nor 
hear when he comes out of the whirlwind, and the 
cloud, and the promise, and speaks to you, as it 
were, ‘ face to face,’ yea, and as with his own, his 
full voice in Jesus Christ. Alas, that the Creator 
should so spend the riches of his power and wisdom 
in fitting up and furnishing this their earthly habi- 
tation, and the more exceeding riches of his grace 
and love, that he might raise them to a fellowship 
with himself, and to more durable and glorious man- 
sions in the skies, and still find it so difficult, let 
alone their heart, to gain the eye or the ear of his 


creatures ! 


260 ~  popULAR INFIDELITY. 


_ CHAPTER X. 


Rea 


Inferences srowing out of or consistent with the principles of the 
preceding discussion—Doctrines of religion viewed in relation to 
our spiritual necessities—Mode of justification—Due esteem of 
Divine grace—Operation of faith—Its effects rational—Agency 
of the Spirit—His fruits contrasted with the works of the flesh— 
Just deductions of reason—Contrariety of Christianity to our 
corrupt nature a proof of its divine origin—Reason competent to 
judge of this—The assistance it gives to faith—Obligation it im- 
poses on us to believe strongly—Justness of our thoughts of 
God depending on the purity of our hearts—Conceptions of holy 
men contrasted with those of the wicked—N ecessity 0: of a light 
that tries and purifies. 


Ir we suppose the reader to be convinced of his 
sinfulness and unbelief, and filled with distress, what 
can he do? He sees that God is just and holy, and 
will by no means clear the guilty. But he learns 
that he can be just, and yet the justifier of him that 
“* beliey eth in Jesus. Still he feels his nature is cor- 
rupt, and that sin attaches to all he does, and how shall 
he have deliverance from it? He learns that. the blood 


of Christ releases him not only from the condemna- 


tion of sin, but procures for him the grace and power 
by which it may be successfully resisted, and shall 
be finally overcome. After trying every thing else 
for relief, and finding none, will he not here say, that 
which I sought is found? I have nothing to pay, and 


a 
- 


= 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. * 261 


here is a salvation without price. I want something to _ 
recommend me to a holy God, and here is a recom- 
mendation which he cannot despise and must needs 
honour. _I am defiled with sin, and here is a foun- 
tain that washes away its every stain. Iam weak 
and can have no confidence in myself, but here is 
strength sufficient for me, strength omnipotent, and 
yet mine to employ. This, surely, is all my salva- 
tion, and all my desire. 

How holy and how averse soever to sin the Scrip- 
tures represent God to be, (and considered as an 
infinite and perfect Being we cannot conceive too 
highly of him in this respect,) and how short soever 
we may come of his holiness and of the requirements 
of his law, neither is proper ground for doubting the 
testimony of the Scriptures, or the fitness of God to 
be the happy portion of creatures even so sinful and 
unw orthy as we are; for in the plan whereby he pro- 


poses to save us, and confer on us this blessedne 8) it 
is contrived, as with design to meet this objection : tO 
our faith and joy, to put so high glory on us, that God 
in heaven shall know no man from his Son so as not 
to see the very righteousness of his Son in that man, 
and that no man there shall be so humble, so de- 
formed, or any way so inconsiderable, as that the 
angels shall not desire to look upon his face as ex- 
pressing the very beauty of Christ himself, a distine- 
“ie 


 : 


il 


262 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


tion which they must needs regard as very glorious 
in itself, and as making him no less so on whom it 
is conferred, or rather whose it is as a nature. 

How honourable to us, how wonderful in wisdom 
and grace, is the plan of our salvation! How com- 
plete is its adaptation to our wants—to the ends, 
the great and glorious ends, which it proposes to an- 
swer in us! If we would honour God, we must see 
that we honour this his peculiar work. He has set 
it apart in all its operations, and parts, and issues, as 
eminently his work. We are assured in his word 
that the end of our salvation is, that we may be ‘to 
the praise of the glory of his grace.’! The Son of 
God, who is the unspeakable gift of his grace, and 
the foundation of all blessing, is he that quickens us. 
The Spirit of God is called ‘the Spirit of grace,? 
and is given to make us partakers of his ‘grace and 
truth.’ The law of God entered, that when sin 
should abound, we might know of its abounding, 
and that ‘grace might much more abound.’ The 
gospel is called ‘the gospel of the grace of God,’ and 
the end of it is, that as sin had reigned unto death, | 
s0 grace might reign through righteousness unto 
eternal life. This treasure, too, is committed unto 
earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power 
might all be of God, insomuch, that though the doe. 


1 Eph. i. 6, 


th. 


by 3 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 263 


trine of Christ be the means of turning our souls 
to God, yet it is but a means, an instrument, that the 
eflicacy of it might be seen to depend upon the power 
of God, and that though we should have a due 
esteem of the planting and watering of the word, 
we might, at the same time, know that if even Paul 
plant, and Apollos water, yet it is God only who 
can give the increase. The design, on our part, of 
magnifying his grace, should appear to us a chief 
duty, a great and worthy design indeed, when ‘the 
only wise God our Saviour’ takes such care to guard 
its glory, and lays its foundations in such depths. If 
the Scriptures do not deceive us, we shall never sue- 
ceed, if we slight this wonderful plan in any of its 
parts. If the blessings which it confers be so very 
great as to bear any proportion to the expense and 
care on the part of God in procuring them, then 
well is it, if we make them ours; but double, unut- 
terable is the folly of our unbelief, if we think to 
gain them on other conditions than his own. 

It is not however more certain. that God engages 
to perform all things for us, than that, if let alone, we 
could and would do nothing adequate to attain the 
end of our salvation; and yet, if we look to the com- 
mencement and progress of divine life in the soul, 
we shall see that nothing is done but in perfect ac- 
cordance with our rational nature, meeting at every 


264 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


point both what we are and what we need. And if 
we could be as rational in considering and embracing 
it, as the provision is rational in its design ‘and 
operation, we should be ‘wise unto salvation.’ 

“ There is,’ says Dr. Donne, “a step towards God 
before we come to faith, which is to understand; God 
works first upon the understanding; he proceeds in 
our conversion and regeneration as he did in our 
first creation. Then man was nothing; but God 
breathed not a soul into that nothing, but of a clod 
of earth he first made a body, and then into that body 
he infused a soul. Man in his regeneration is nothing, 
and does nothing. His body is not verier dust in the 
grave, till a resurrection, than his soul is dust in the 
body, till a resuscitation by grace. But then this 
grace does not work upon this nothingness in man, 
upon this mere privation; but grace finds out man’s 
natural faculties, and exalts them to a capacity and 
susceptibility of the working thereof, and so by the 
understanding infuses faith.” Agreeably, as we see, 
God first sends out his light and truth, and then calls 
on all men everywhere to repent and believe; he 
begins his instructions at the understanding. He 
does not first say, I will make thee believe, but, as 
here, ‘I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way 
which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine 
eye. Be ye not as the horse, or the mule, which 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 265 


have no understanding; which must be held in with 
bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.”! And 
‘the entrance of his word giveth light; it giveth 
understanding unto the simple.”? 

The same reason and adaptation will be perceived 
if we look farther on in the divine life; if we trace 
faith working by love, purifying the heart, and over- 
coming the world, the three special effects which 
the Scriptures ascribe to it. Take notice, too, that 
they are the very effects which it is necessary should 
be wrought in us; for we are not naturally prone to 
love God, neither are we naturally pure, and the ob- 
jects we choose and the affections we let out on them 
cannot purify us, nor are we naturally disposed or 
competent to subdue and overcome the love of the 
world; but faith can do all this, and the process is 
perfectly agreeable to our rational nature. It un- 
folds new and incomparably attractive objects of 
affection and hope, and points to God as the source 
and centre of them, and we must needs love him, 
as we will always love that which is most lovely to 
our view, and we must needs seek him too, as we will 
always seek that which appears most estimable and 
desirable, and he will then appear not only so 
estimable and desirable as nothing else can, but he 
is really so estimable and desirable, that our loving 


1 Ps, xxxii. 8, 9. 2 Ps, cxix. 130, 
22 Ss 


pe 


266 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


him shall make him ever appear more and more so for 
ever; and so shall faith purify our hearts, as they can- 
not but be purified in loving what is pure, and 
enable us to overcome the world, as we cannot but 
feel ourselves masters of it, when we have an object 
that so transcends it, and are filled with desires and 
hopes carrying us upward, and not deigning so much 
as to light on things below. 

This is all agreeable to the truest philosophy—and 


we can judge of it for ourselves. We may also see 


the same wisdom in the work which the Spirit has 
to accomplish in us. It is a wonderful work, yet a 
work meeting, so completely and rationally, the ne- 
cessities of our nature, that we must be very stupid 
not to believe it of Divine appointment, a witness to 
ourselves, that should command our faith in the word 
of God. 

There is a secret life of the good man which is 
carried on, without the observation of the world. 
What most distinguishes him is, that he has ‘the 
secret of the Lord,’ a light and agency from him, 
one enabling him to see moral qualities aright, and 
the other disposing and helping him in the fight of 
faith and holiness. When he rightly understands, 
and avails himself of these, he is full of light and 
power, that is, he has the strength and the Spirit of 
the Lord,—the one having this condition, that it can 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 267 


be perfected in his weakness, and the other this 
office, that he is sent to dwell in him, to enlighten, a 
sanctify, actuate, and mould him to his likeness. 

He has an armour and all needful instructions pro- 

vided for him, but without these aids he can do -no- 

thing ; his strength is weakness, his mind is dark- 

ness, his heart is prepossessed, and indisposed_ to 

good. Now, the great difficulty he experiences in 

making progress, after he has been enlightened i 
turned to righteousness, is, that having been used to~ 
do it, he is still prone and tempted to walk in his 
own strength and in the sight of his own eyes. He 
follows the gleaming light of his passions and de- 
sires—that glowing of insects which is never seen 
except when true effulgence is withdrawn—and no 
wonder that he stumbles, falls back, and complains 
of ‘the body of this death.? ‘Without me,’ says 
Christ, ‘ ye can do nothing,’ and he is acting on the 
faith of his own capacity. We must believe God 
fully, or we shall profit little by a belief of him in 
part. We should especially trust him in things 
which our ‘confidence in the flesh’ prompts us to 
discredit. We should be most suspicious of allow- 
ances which import our strength and importance. 
We should be jealous of any goodness which gives 
us confidence in ourselves. We should be alarmed 


at any peace of conscience which is not ‘through 


Py 


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268 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


: 
‘our Lord Jesus Christ.? What we think of our- 


“Selves is not so much a proof of what we are, as 


what we think of Christ, what we are ready to do 
for him, and what we expect of him. In his light 
alone we see light. What we see in us that is not 
of him, is of the earth and earthy. The Spirit takes 
of the things of Christ and shows them unto us; he 
leads us into the truth of Christ ; he seals us unto 
the day of the redemption of Christ. We have no- 
thing to do with God out of Christ, nor has he any 
thing to do with us, but in him we may be a habita- 
tion of God through the Spirit.’ ‘ Whatsoever is 
born of God overcometh the world.’. It overcomes 
the world, because it is not of it, and aspires to God 
above. The strength by which the victory is won, 
is seen to be of God, and is referred to the fact that 
the man is ‘ created anew,’ and his heart become the 
seat of the renewing influences of the Holy Spirit. 
In this dependence is all the affluence of his strength. 
The omnipotence of grace puts itself forth in arms 
of flesh, and the soldier of the cross is thus made 
mighty. The Holy Spirit, having renewed the 
soul, exerts his own gracious power in it; so that 
there need be no weakness at all in the Christian. 
He girds his loins about ‘ with truth,’ imparts to 
him that holiness which is as a breast-plate for his 
protection, inspires him with wisdom and might in 


a 
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POPULAR INFIDELITY. 269 


the Scriptures, indites his petitions, and gives him 
power with God in prayer, and power against ee 
and the devil. .Thus the work goes on. His spi- 
ritual foes are numerous, but the gifts and graces of 
the Holy Spirit, in the exercise and strength of 
which he strives against them, are numerous also. 
And it is not difficult to see the order and the wis- 
dom of the process, so far as its adaptation to our 
nature is to be considered. The works of the flesh, 
and the fruits of the Spirit, as they are termed in 
the Scriptures, are opposites, and the only question 
as to complete success, unless we fail by our wilful 
choice, is answered by inquiring which of these 
hosts has the strongest and wisest leader. ‘There is 
no inequality of numbers, and they stand breast to 
breast, in nature and design opposite and irrecon- 
cilable. There is a separate and mighty energy of 
grace for every opposing and rebellious appetite, 
temptation, and sin. For illustration look at the 
array. Love to God opposes itself to all other im- 
moderate attachments. Joy in believing is opposed 
to despondency and inaction. The ‘peace of God’ 
is opposed to variances, strifes, and contentions. 
Meekness is opposed to resentments and complaints. - 
Gentleness, kindness, contends against envy, jea- 
lousy, and implacability. Charity, into which all 


other graces run as if to make one pervading perfec- 
. 23% 


270 POPULAR INFIDELITY. ; 
w 


tion, contends against hatred, pride, and every thing bi 
that is not like itself, lovely and of good fret, 
We might proceed further, but let it be observed 
that these and all other fruzts of the Spirit are work- 
ing in this manner to demolish the ‘natural man’ 
with his ‘corrupt affections and lusts.’ 

We trust the process of this operation is intelligi- 
ble, and that the Christian will see his need of 
the Spirit, that with him he can do all things, and 
without him absolutely nothing. # 

We see also how the Spirit exerts his agency in 
the soul. All the desires and affections of the ‘carnal 
mind’ have their opposites in the products of his 
influence. What he has begun, if we oppose it not 
but strive with him, he will accomplish. He will 
do nothing without and contrary to our wills. That 
so great blessedness which he proposes, he will not so 
confer but we shall have it by our choice, and, if not 
a share of merit in its procurement, at least an 
agency that bespeaks our capacity for receiving and 
enjoying it. Man’s virtues and powers are so incon- 
siderable, that we seem to see best his responsibi- 
lity and greatness in his capacity to take on, or 
rather, to decline a divine nature, to drive away 
from him the Agent of such glory to himself. But 
the Christian wit does this, or thinks to do any, good 
thing, without courting his presence and aid, is 


© 
a 


*, ‘ POPULAR INFIDELITY. 271 
guilty of a folly which is so great, that our attempts 
to describe it but obscure its wonders. That an angel 
can go out from the bosom and favour of God we 
can, with difficulty, believe, but when permitted to 
return, after tasting for a while the bitterness and 
anguish, the remorse and shame of sin and exile, 
that he should fly back to his place just as the drop- 
pings and the beams of heaven were pouring upon 
him again—this is what we cannot believe—this is 
achoice which must more than double his folly ; 
but how it must affect the guilt, to what measure it 
must stretch the folly of one who returns to the bor- 
ders of such blessedness by a way that is sprinkled 
with the blood of the Son of God—this is what we 
best express without expression ! 

This blessed Agent, by which every thing good is 
wrought in us, is too little considered by pious peo- 
ple. If we read the writings of the inspired apostles, 
we shall find him the abounding subject of instruc- 
tion and admonition. If we look at the plan of 
salvation, and the mode in which it is applied and 
made effectual to its end, we shall find that though 
it isa finished work, full of grace and truth, arif@ehines 
like the sun, making it all light around, yet it is un- 
approachable by us, till the Spirit Apings tous the ~ 
good gifts of its purchase, and works in us that 
acceptance of them which makes them ours. He 


Q72 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


breathes into us the breath of a new life, and dif- 
fuses over the soul the beams of his own excellence; 
and the life that begins in him, can continue only by 
him, and act only through him,—he acting in us, and 
yet we so acting that all our action is ours in respon- 
sibility, and his in worth and acceptance. The 
Christian has no merit, if it be not merit, which is 
not merit but duty, to welcome and cherish the aids 
which are proffered to him, and which so do every 
thing for him that he can do nothing without them. 
This is the reason why genuine humility is made 
so favourite and distinguished a grace in the Scrip- 


tures, that it seems to comprise all others. It isa 


necessary fruit of all true knowledge of ourselves © 


and of God. All that we have done or cannot do, all 
that God has done or will do for us, has a tendency to 
produce it, when justly considered. A proud, vain, 
conceited Christian, can have no experience of 
Christianity. He may have zeal, he may have the 
sentiment of religion; but the faith, the principles— 
the bones of the system—he has little relish for 
these, and there is a chance that he may have little 
charity for those who have. The humble man is 


ikely to attempt any thing in his own strength, 
is never so well pleased as when he best knows 
that Gad doe all things for him. He thinks not to 
pray without the Spirit, not to speak advisedly with- 


vik: 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 273. 


out him, not to resist temptation without him, not to 
understand the Scriptures without him, and of course 
continues humble; he has nothing to exalt himself, 
though God is greatly exalted in him and he in 
God. 

When we can invent or conceive any possible 
plan whereby the corruption of our nature can be 
met and overcome in a way more rational, more 
comprehensible, more easy of belief, than it is by 
that of the gospel, we may venture to discredit and 
reject this; but, till then, we can scarcely give 
stronger proof of the truth of the Scriptures than 
by our indifference or opposition to this. The 
Scriptures do not presume that we will act with 
reason on this subject, though they leave us without 
excuse for not acting so. They are so ordered, and 
the scheme of divine grace has such depth of wis- 
dom in it, and proceeds upon such a foresight of 
what our nature is, as that, when we come to a right 
mind, (a mind that perceives the truth without any 
bias from an evil heart, or in spite of such bias,) and 
come to this mind we must, nothing shall appear so 


irrational, and, if we could doubt then,so ee te as 


the difficulties we now make with religion, especi 
withthe method of our deliverance from the curse and 
the dominion of sin. One would think “SRS ore 


must be affectedly blind and stupid, or wantonly indo- 


a 
~ 


ate POPULAR INFIDELITY. | 


lent and thoughtless, or frowardly vain and perverse, 
to stick at this doctrine, and not see in the adaptation 
of all its parts and agencies to our nature and to 
the accomplishment of the ends it proposes, the most 
convincing evidence of its truth, and of that our 
great necessity which it comes to relieve. Men, who 
trouble themselves with this doctrine as presented 
in the Scriptures, or who do not trouble themselves 
to know and understand it, and therefore, in either 
case, virtually discredit it, discrediting their need of 
it, and actually reject it, not complying with its con- 
ditions, believe that there is a God, that goodness 
is one of his principal attributes, that he has a special 
regard to man as one of his noblest creatures, and 
capable of knowing and judging of his dispensa- 
tions, and would believe as much as this, if God had 


not revealed it, because their reason would collect 


it from observation of notorious and otherwise un- 


accountable appearances in nature and providence; — a 


and, therefore, if they do not doubt the sinfulness and 
nisery of their state, nor doubt that God will show 
mercy to sinners, it is singular that their reason 
should not close with the doctrine of his grace as 
the only relief which it is reasonable to conceive; 
for if any relief be admissible, (and men who slight 
this doctrine always expect it in some way,) and 


God has made known no other way of granting it, 


7) ™ 
a 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 275 


reason, left to itself, and comparing and weighing 
things to be believed with things known, would infer 
that this is indeed God’s method, and that, as coming 
from him, it must be a wise, benevolent, and un- 
changeable one, suited, in all respects, to its end, 
‘even our salvation.” And our reason seems to be 
treated and addressed as having this responsibility 
and capacity of judging in the case. The appeal is 
strong to the reason of man, when our Saviour says, 
‘He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, 
hath one that judgeth him; the word that I have 
spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day;? 
and again, ‘If I do not the works of my Father, 
believe me not;’ ‘If I had not come and spoken 
unto them, and done among them the works which — 
no other man did, they had not had sin.’ This 
language implies that our believing is a thing so 
reasonable, that it is the most unreasonable thing in 


the world not to believe. * Aind: sot is, and so it 


will appear, when ‘the word shall judge us in ibe 
last day.’ 

If we would consider the system with half the 
candour and thoughtfulness, which its importance, as 
concerning us, should entitle it to—consider it in its 
several parts, in its applicability to our exigencies, 
and in its final result, the working of that charity in 
us which is ‘ the fulfilling of the law,’ and which, as 


Ate 


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276 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 


nothing else does or can do, makes: us both happy 
and deserving to be so, reason would at least carry 
us to a faith that would not let us rest on other 
foundations, especially on foundations laid in the 
exceptions and fancies which our corruptions take 
against this, as humbling, or rather, as exalting us in 
a way that does not humble God, raising us, not 
bringing him down to make us meet. “Concerning 
faith, the principal object whereof is that eternal 
verity which hath discovered the treasures of hid- 
den wisdom in Christ; concerning hope, the highest 
object whereof is that everlasting goodness which in 
Christ doth quicken the dead; concerning charity, 
the final object whereof is that incomprehensible 
» beauty which shineth in the countenance of Christ 
the Son of the living God; concerning these virtues, 
the first of which, beginning here with a weak appre- 
hension of things not seen, endeth with an intuitive 
vision of God in. the world to come; the second 
beginning here with a trembling expectation of 
things far removed, and as yet only heard of, endeth 
with real and actual fruition of that which no tongue 
can express; the third beginning here with a weak 
inclination of heart toward Him unto whom we are 
not able to approach, endeth with endless union, the 
mystery of which is higher than the reach of the 
thoughts of us men; concerning these, without 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. Che 


which there can be no salvation, was there ever 
mention made saving only in that law which God 
himself hath from heaven revealed ??”! Surely reason 
should be carried by the argument which Christian- 
ity contains itself. It is a sun of unparalleled bright- 
ness; we have no beams, and we can imagine none, 
to match with it: but it is to us unbelievers a sun in 
clouds, yet making the day lightsome, which would 
otherwise be totally dark. The clouds, however, 
are all our own,—and if we would steadily apply the 
piercing eye of reason to the great object, they would 
soon clear away and leave us to admire and rejoice 
in the surpassing light. 

We may further infer the truth of the Christian 
religion from the fact that it represents God 1o be ~ 
‘such a one’ as corrupt men are not prone to con- 
ceive him to be. And it is evident it represents 
him to be such a being as he is, or that we have no 
knowledge of him; for the knowledge it imparts 
accords with the best knowledge we can derive of 
him from other sources, and no other religion teaches 
any thing that is consistent with our ideas of his 
perfections. It alone requires us to honour him, as 
it seems agreeable to reason he should wish to be 
honoured, not with external pomp, or with the sacri- 
fice of human or other victims, but in spirit and in 


1 Ecclesiastical Polity, Book i. p. 265. 
24 


278 FOPULAR INFIDELITY. 


truth, with love, adoration, and praise. In a word, 
it alone represents him, not in the moral likeness of 

mah, but in that pure likeness which it would con- 
fer on man as unworthy, and in this it is that the 
evidence of its divine origin shines most. Other 
religions represent him in the moral likeness of 

man; they ascribe to him the passions and the vir- 
tues of man; and it must be so in a religion of 

merely human origin, because man, in the darkness 
and corruption of his nature, can have no higher’ 
model of excellence than himself by which to regu- 
late his notions of God,—and because, also, his con- 
ceptions, under any advantages, of a higher being 
than himself, will be modified by the cherished pro- 
pensities of his evil nature. This truth is confirmed 
by all pagan notions of the worship and character of 

a supreme deity. These notions, too, will be found 
absurd and revolting in proportion to the ignorance 
and viciousness of those by whom they are enter- 
tained. pre their employments ever so unlawful, 

they are the employments in which they expect 
to engage in a future world. Are their highest 
pleasures ever so degrading, they are the pleasures 
with which they expect and desire to be rewarded. 

Are their religious rites | ever so cruel, and their. 
modes of worship ever so frivolous, by these their 
deities are supposed to be delighted and honoured 


Ea RR | 


POPULAR INFIDELITY. 279 


How unlike the God the Christian religion teaches us 
to contemplate, as requiring of his rational creature, 
man, a purity and elevation of character which he 
does not naturally exhibit; as making his supreme 
felicity hereafter to consist in employments for which 
he has little relish here, and in which it does not 
presume he can find his appropriate delight until re- 
newed in the likeness of his Creator! If all religions 
were arraigned at the bar of reason, like so many sus- 
pected criminals, would not this one have a witness 
to the truth of its pretensions, in its very judge? Does 
it not meet man in a condition for which he seerns 
not adapted, making provisions for its evils by 
presenting objects to his affections and hopes more 
worthy of his exalted nature, and furnishing the 
means by which he may be qualified to obtain and 
enjoy them? Does it not bear witness of its superior 
origin by making the God it obeys, possessed of 
attributes which accord with the principles of en- 
lightened conscience—a Being such as depraved 
-men, without his assistance, have never imagined, 

and such as all experience proves they would not 
‘have rule over them?’ Such a religion, it is to be 
presumed, will be doubted by evil men, or believed 
with such modifications. a d relaxations of its de- 
mands as will make it virt ually a religion invented 


by their passions,—an angel sent from heaven to 
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280 . POPULAR INFIDELITY. | 
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succour their security in delusion and impenitence. 
A religion not doubted in either of these senses by 


Pageigate. men is one evidently Sitich they are 


roved, w nighiy utkihor elevates the character of 
aor seeks nor i cites the smiles of Heaven. 
Tie gartty of such men, with regard to the Chris- 
tian religion, justify the presumption that its origin 
is divine. But reason approves the voice of reve- 
Jation which calls upon them to believe that their 
infidelity is the offspring of guilt. The more the 
religion they doubt is investigated, the more will its 
evidences, its beauties, and hidden wonders be un- 
folded; but the contrary is true with respect to 
every other. This, too, covets their closest observa- 


tion—it lightens through universal nature—it comes 


re in the attire of heavenly peace—it appeals 
h 


o their fears in thunders, and to their kindly sym- 
ies in the accents of love—and all to awaken 
their attention and gain their heart. 
ve think, then, that the contrariety of human 
character to the demands of the Christian religion, is 
just what we should expect from a system proposing 
the elevation of man, and bringing against him the 
charge of guilt. No wonder, indeed, that we see 
the rule of its estimation differing from that of man; 
if it were not so, it would command little reverence 


from him, and he would turn it off as impertinent to 
a 4 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. : 7, 
his nvaits; and as incompetent to the task of con- 
vincing him of his guilt, or of delivering him from 
it, should he be convinced. Still, as it is, it is noe as 
he would have it, and clearly not. as he would have 
made it—but in this consists both its worthiness of 
God, and its suitableness to man. Our exception to 
it, is but a plea in behalf of ourselves, a vindication of 
our sins, a calling in question of the wisdom of God 
in a way that does both prove it, and our incapacity of 
Judging in the case. Both our complaints against 
the system, and our misconceptions of it, may be 
safely understood to presume its truth—the one as 
arguing our guilt, and therefore our duty to comply 
with it, and our need of the relief it brings—the 
other, yea both as proving its excellency to be above 
our experience and taste, and therefore above our 
understanding, and worthy of the divine descent — 
which it claims. a 

Now, when we find that all other systems of 
religion are like ourselves, and therefore needing 
that which we need—are but the shows of the things, 
not the things themselves, which are necessary to 
bring us relief, it should not be an inconsiderable or 
vain thing with us, that we find Christianity, when 
contrasted with the developements of our fallen 
nature and with our felt necessities, a system so 


agreeable to our reason, that it must own itself baf- 
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against it, and s0 replete with ets , 
te ee that it seems to ‘ tell us: oe 


th |, as it were, before set ae 
to be our duty. “We are S aionaleaies and how 
shall we answer it to ourselves, ang to God who gave “f 
us our reason, and speaks to it ‘as no man ever spoke,” ! 
and therefore so, that we must needs know it is bith: 
self and not another, er shall we answer it, if we :; : 
do not act rationally on this the subject most worthy Shas 
of the homage of our reason, and disclosing to us _ 
objects of affection and hope which should bear us A 
above all the difficulties sense and matter oppose to 
our faith? As that which j is rooted in the prophecies, a 
Ss full blossom in the gospel, and becomes thence 
‘the greatest of trees, and is dropping in abundance 
ae richest of fruits, so doctrines carrying in them 

so bright a divinity, that our words of exception, 

like the scoffs of old, ‘Behold your king,’ ‘ This is 

the king of the Jews,’ do indeed speak the truth 

which they mean not—doctrines so proportioned to 

our reason, so rooted therein, that there can be no 

reason but in believing them—should have a full 

bloom in our faith, and bring forth onward ‘sixty’ 

and a ‘hundred-fold’ of fruit,—making us, not the 

dry limbs, not the adhering moss that has a life from 

it, though not assimilating with it, but the lively and 


‘ pa : ae * 
* 3 * ‘ 
‘ a 
growing branches of he hie eaves are for 
'- me wechdhnbatiog of the nations.’ hy a. een; gee: r 


‘ges a When God so a and gives — 


*. ; ofc our reason, too, 1 in 


such tees of himsel. 
the grace of the gospel, shall we refuse to rest our- 
gees on the bosom of his promise, and look further 
for a provision that suits our case, or further than | 
* - this he has made, for a pledge of fair and open access, 


or of sweet and honourable entrance into the ever- 


ee ie 
lasting favour of Him with whom we have to do? 
It is good to think often that we are reasonable 
F _ creatures, and that God calls us only to a reasonable 
ow 


service. He treats us as wise, yet having much to 


learn, and therefore we may not presume; he pro- 


ek, & 


vides for us as sinful and helpless, yet, assuring: 


of strength, which trusting we cannot fail, and t 
fore we may not despair. If we have not faith, le Be 
reason exercise itself to soften the heart to receive 
it, as wax the seal, and then shall we know what we 
believe, and why and how we came to that happy 
state. If we have faith, and it be ‘as a grain of 
mustard seed,’ still well is it, well indeed, if we 
exercise our reason to give it an intelligent growth, 
a growth of truth. Then shall all matters between 
God and our reason be evenly adjusted, and the 
‘mountains remove hence,’ and leave us ‘ strong in 


the Lord and in the power of his might.’ «. plicit 


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ae. t POPULAR wea 
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W citevers ignorant believers, the Retest may 


swallow; but the understanding believer, he must 
Vor id pick bones, before he come to assimilate 


liever stands in an open field, and the enemy will 


ride over him easily; the understanding believer is 
sae fenced town, and he hath outworks to lose before 
a oe ‘the town be pressed; that is, reasons to be answered, 
_ before his faith be shaken, and he will sell himself 
dear, and lose himself by inches, if he be sold or 


lost at last; and therefore, sctant ommes, let all men 


know, that is, endeavour to inform themselves, to 


wien 5 nae 


rectness of our thoughts of God ivi depend upon > 


him, and make him like himself. The. implicit be-- 


the purity of our hearts. We may speak of | ‘him in) a 


ia language worthy of his greatness, we may be elo- 
i quent in his praises, but it is all sound, if — he 
is, is not the object of our love, if there exists in the 
heart a secret repugnance to his purity. It is to no 
purpose that we, as others, profess to admire and 
know God, if we are not, like them, ‘ partakers of 
his holiness.’ In that case, we are like the wretched 
profligate who intrudes himself into the society of 
the virtuous, and affects to enter into their sympa- 

ae ; 


1 Dr. Donne’s Sermon on Acts ii. 36. 


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POPULAR INFIDELITY. $285 Fe 
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thies, to appreciate and manifest delicacies of senti- 
ment he has never ae and virtues he does ‘not Pi 
to possess—like him who has eirnedls proke unee ." S 
a foreign language which he cannot translate into his a a 
own, and thus reads in it, without emotion or under- ne a 
standing, passages by which those who hear him are “ 
moved and delighted. : a 
If there be a tendency of our. Minds toleveldown 
the ies ae of God to corresponding qualities in 
our own nature, the more we ‘ purify our hearts i in 
obeying the truth’ the more worthy will be our con- 
ceptions of him, and the more will we rejoice and 
‘give 1 anks at the remembrance of his holiness.’ 
. In proj 
r: Il think worthily of him. But if we do not love 
what ‘he loves, and hate what he hates, if we are not 
Fs © quick - perceive and approve the manifestations ae 
_ his will and perfections, reason. adjudges that we 
take heed, ‘lest the light that is in us be darkness,’ 
lest we desire rather to liken him to ourselves, than 
to be assimilated to his perfections. The light we 


have, if it does not elevate our conceptions, and 


Oportion as we ascend in likeness to him, we 


purify and warm our affections, is not ‘the light of 
the knowledge of the glory of God;’ this is asa bright- 
ness from the face of God—a sun in us; that is a fitter 
emblem of a winter’s evening, cold as it is clear—a 
“moonshine which is to us but an earnest of night. 


in 


ee 
4 = 4 ss 
ae ‘ Nae 
= Ser ~ ae 


= ie INFIDELITY. 


te en 4 “4 
" 6 «The wider of God created et fit a 
, and proportionate to truth, the object and-end « of it, 
hid as the eye to the thing visible. If. gure nderstand- 
=a oe ae 


ing | have a film of ignorance over it; or be bl pa 
is Beak oe Nitec tis th 


| , in n US, then we ivrould ript ures protest: 
: ein Er: aati a We m 
a i a a3 we pron not oo be 


re se e and a. Pah “isags “A 
. We 1 must kindle with the. Mesut y, of a 4 os 


drink in buses, streams than those of earth. Wed Ca 
must look steadily eres ae 
es ‘Rectan | ows it lookse” “We ba tag be ek 
= with it, as Daniel, when his ¢ comeliness - vithin him ae 
was turned into corruption,’ or as Isaiah, w hen h Ba 
exclaimed, ‘wo is me, for Tam a man of unclea 5 | 
lips,’ but, ¢ like gold that is tried j in the J furnace,” we. i 
shall be the purer and the brighter. a oats me 


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